


Bibliopolium apertum est - Asleep

by BettyAnnButterworth



Series: BettyAnnButterworth's Bipliopolium Collection [1]
Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston AU - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: Actor Tom Hiddleston, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Demisexuality, F/M, Greek Wisdom, Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:01:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 90,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23609572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BettyAnnButterworth/pseuds/BettyAnnButterworth
Summary: The object of life is not to be on the side of the majority, but to escape finding oneself in the ranks of the insane.- Marcus Aurelius”It seems you have miraculously not noticed it, but I am hopelessly drawn to you.  I hadn’t even seen your face yet, just the top of your head buried in books, and I was already drawn to you.  And before you say it, it had very little to do with what you look like.”Alex lives in a world of books and stories. Thomas would love to enter and read them.Three Weeks in April.OrBibliopolium apertum est.
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston & Original Character(s), Tom Hiddleston & Original Female Character(s), Tom Hiddleston/Original Character(s), Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s)
Series: BettyAnnButterworth's Bipliopolium Collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1723423
Comments: 110
Kudos: 63





	1. Monday, April 13

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emmylou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmylou/gifts).
  * Inspired by [What You Put Into the World](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1837888) by [Emmylou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmylou/pseuds/Emmylou). 



****

## 15:30 GMT

 _At dawn, when you have trouble getting out of bed, tell yourself:  
__'I have to go to work — as a human being. What do I have to complain of, if I'm going to do what I was born for —  
the things I was brought into the world to do?_ _Or is this what I was created for? To huddle under the blankets and stay warm?'_

― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

He woke with a grunt and, eyes not yet open, frowned at the distant noise of traffic and the feel of rough fabric under his cheek. No faint sound of Newport Beach waves crashing, not the smooth linens of the rental house where he’d slept for the past few weeks; it smelled of home but lacked the softness of his pillow. With a groan, he cracked an eye and took in his surroundings. Home, yes. 

Despite headphones and an eye mask, he’d not slept at all on the long-haul flight and had hardly made it through the door before collapsing on the couch, for – he glanced at his watch and slowly did the math – 4 hours. It was still Monday, now early afternoon, and he was back at home. Home. He groaned again, but this time, full of appreciation.

Doing a few slow stretches and sighing in satisfaction at the cracking release in his spine, he got up, bending over to touch his toes and rolling his head from side to side until his neck felt more supple. A quick shower and he was in the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards and finding next to nothing that appealed. Emma was supposed to have stocked everything up prior to his arrival but had come down with a terrible case of bronchitis and was holed up in bed, her message of apology so croaky and hoarse that he had barely recognized her voice. Swinging the fridge door shut, he made a face. All he wanted was to pick up Toby and then do not another thing for the foreseeable future, but his stomach was growling. Nothing for it, he’d have to make a run to the shops. But first, coffee.

It felt wonderful to be back, striding through his neighborhood, the light drizzle a refreshing change from the sunshine of California. He was greeted by the staff at the café, who knew his order before he placed it and while he waited, listening to the hiss and sputter of the espresso machine, he texted the sitter, receiving a prompt reply that she’d be home by 6 o’clock, awaiting his arrival. 

Since there was no rush until then, he sat at a table by the window, enjoying a good old-fashioned newspaper with his coffee and sandwich. Still yawning, he got a second espresso to go and set off towards home to get his car. He’d need it not only to carry the major shopping, but all of Toby’s luggage as well; both beds, his food and water dishes, bag of kibble and the ‘tickle trunk’ of squeaky toys. As he stepped out of the cafe, the shop next door was a reminder that he had laundry to drop off but as he glanced in the window, he remembered. The dry cleaner that used to be here was gone, replaced by a bookstore. He had seen the construction before he had left and wondered what would take its place. Scanning the window display and curious, he pushed the door open.

## 17:10 GMT

_I count him braver who overcomes his desires than him who conquers his enemies, for the hardest victory is over the self._

― Aristotle

The bell tinkles as the front door opens. Without looking up from her desk, she spies in her peripheral vision once again a white take-out coffee container.

“Welcome to Babylon Books,” she calls, and tries not to sound too annoyed, “would you mind leaving your drink on the shelf there by the front door?”

There is a pause following her request, then a soft chuckle.

For his second shop, Alistair, the proud owner, had chosen a location that had a lot to recommend it; expensive houses, a demographic better educated than most and a high amount of foot traffic. The only real downside, which they’d discovered very shortly after opening, was that being next door to a café meant that practically half the people who wandered in, whether looking for something specific or merely curious about the new shop on the street, were carrying a to-go cup full of potentially book destroying matter. The problem had become so obvious, so quickly that only four days after opening they had put up a shelf next to the door with a printout reading, ‘ _You may leave all cups, bottles, glasses (except reading) and any variations on liquids here and collect on your way out._ ’. 

Most people are amused by it but a few take it personally though frankly, she couldn’t give a damn. If you are less concerned about the state of books than you are that your latte might get cold while you browse, you aren’t really her sort of customer anyway. 

Alistair often sighs and suggests she should try to remember who exactly is paying money for their wares, but she knows he is secretly amused by her militancy and pleased he can count on her to keep people in check so he doesn’t have to and can continue to play the kindly shopkeeper. 

As of last week, a yellow sticky post-it has been stuck to the bottom of the sign, that reads ‘ _Thank you_.’ It’s not her handwriting.

She looks up from the pair of books in front of her to see if the customer is a browser or would approach her to ask for a particular item. Setting his cup on the shelf, he turns to her, and points at it.

“Clever idea, with the café next door.”

It had been raining when she arrived at work, but now the sun has broken through and against the glare off the wet pavement through the window behind him, she can make out a tall, slender body, a mass of slightly damp waves as well as a certain hesitance. When he walks toward her, she is struck that he looks familiar. He smiles and pushes his dark frames higher on his nose. The glasses, scruffy beard and worn navy pea coat combine to give him a somewhat dusty but professorial air and she casts her mind back (even way back) to university, wondering if he might have been a teaching assistant or visiting lecturer at some point in her education. He has that kind of an aura to him.

“Thank you for understanding,” she acknowledges his comment, “you’d be amazed how personally some people take it.”

“As though you were accusing them of clumsiness?”

“Yes. I mean, it’s not as though the sign says, ‘Put your cappuccino here Maureen.’ It’s equal opportunity.” Trying to get back to business, she continues, “Was there something you were looking for specifically, or have you just come in to have a look around?”

“No, nothing specific. I’m only back from abroad and saw the shop when I came down for a coffee. You’re new and I can’t resist a bookstore.”

Normally, she doesn’t chat much with customers. In general, she finds them less informative than the texts she works on.

“You must have been away for a while; we opened two weeks ago.”

He nods, “Working in the States. I have to say,” he gazes around, “it doesn’t look like a newly opened shop. And you must have been amazingly quick to refurbish. It’s got a lived in, been here for decades sort of feel to it.”

She smiles, pleased that he’d noticed. “That’s entirely by design. Alistair, the owner, knows the architect Alec who owns a construction company as well. Together they work quite efficiently. It might have to do with the fact that Alec would like to date Alistair. Who knows? “ Her wink at him is out of character and surprises her. She continues more seriously. “We can order the usual best sellers and paperbacks for you, but our specialty is hard to find or obscure books. First editions, scientific texts and medical manuals, that kind of thing. The sort of people looking for those items tend not to trust a bookstore that appears too shiny and new. We need to exude an air of authenticity and tradition.”

Nodding again, he says “Well, you’ve certainly managed that. If I hadn’t been 100% sure that my dry cleaner was in this exact spot when I left a few weeks ago, I would have figured it had been here forever. It even smells old.” And then he laughs.

His eyes are deep-set, and they crease when he is amused, the outer corners drawing down.

“The books themselves have an aroma. Old paper does have a particular scent, though in truth, we try to avoid that because it usually means it’s breaking down, subject to moisture and light but with as many volumes as we have, it’s unavoidable and they’re not all valuable, despite their age.”

He just keeps looking at her so she adds, “I am sorry though you will have to find a new laundry service.”

He steps closer to the counter and she catches a whiff of cologne, subtle and earthy. Expensive, which surprises her a little considering the state of his clothing. It isn’t as though it seems cheap, but the blue wool of his jacket is liberally dusted with hairs, and there is a snag on the chest of his matching navy jumper. She muses on this slightly dishevelled appearance. Maybe he is eccentric and simply doesn’t notice, or care, like most scholars she knows.

He glances down at the texts scattered on the counter top, replying to her apology.

“That’s no trouble, if the usurper is such a charming... establishment. If you don’t mind me asking, what were you so intent on, when I came in?”

She looks down at the books and runs a finger along the edge of a page, “Poetry. To be exact, a new take on a translation of a well-known text. I have been tasked with and working on it for the last week but I am running out of time. I’m checking alternative sources right now.”

She isn’t sure why she bothers to explain as the man turns his head, trying to read the words on the page and, watching his face, she sees his eyebrows rise. He looks up at her and makes a small gesture toward the volumes.

“May I?”

His eyes scan the page when she hands the book over and slowly, he reads the first stanza aloud. Not the English version from the right side but the Greek one, from the left.

“Your pronunciation is rusty but solid.” It’s the best she can do to hide her surprise.

He shrugs, not dismissive, but shy, and carefully hands the edition back to her.

“I read Classics at Cambridge.”

“I was at Cambridge as well… I thought I might recognize you from somewhere. What years?”

He ducks his head and rubs a huge hand across his lower face; looks embarrassed though she couldn’t imagine why, unless he didn’t finish and is touchy about it.

“I got my degree in 2005, I don’t think we were there at the same time.”

“No,” she agrees, “I started when you left, but I thought you might have been a visiting professor or given a lecture.”

“No, I went in a different direction after that,” he says somewhat wistfully, “and yes, I’m a bit rusty after so many years, but I remember this edition, always liked the way Athena is described in it. Homer used to be one of my favorite subjects, but I haven’t had much practice in recent years. What is it, specifically, that you are trying to find? Your point of frustration?”

She looks up and they hold eye contact, for just a moment longer than would have been usual for her. It seems she is searching for something in his gaze.

“I am well versed in the language; pure translation isn’t the issue. I see the descriptions as pictures very clearly in my head, but the distilled translation of the subtler, softer, if you will, _romantic_ nuances, I struggle to put them into words. The depth of the description of the original is just not done justice by contemporary English.” She shrugs, a bit embarrassed at the frustration that shines through her tone, and that not many would understand. But he nods thoughtfully.

“Cerulean-eyed Pallas, bright-eyed goddess, ash-eyed Athena… it seemed the color description for the same pair of eyes depended on the situation, which was always fascinating to me. I wondered how the Greeks saw the world, I mean in which colors. _Glaukópis_ , as an example and literal translation in general, befuddled me back then as well.“

They look intently into one another’s eyes, as if both contemplating how to describe the depth of them in their own words. The visitor adds as in afterthought, “And once I read about Ajax and Cassandra I could never again listen to ‘ _Total Eclipse of the Heart_ ‘ quite in the same way.”

“You mean the bright eyes part? Interesting. It’s rare to meet an enthusiast for the classics outside the academic world and on top of it, with a gift of not just interpretation but association.”

“Believe me when I say, I truly miss it. Everyone I knew was celebrating their final exam, while I was… sad, actually. I still take out some volumes from my lectures. I have a whole designated shelf for them.” As he smiles a bit sheepishly at this admission she can tell he is stating the truth and almost feels pity, because she couldn’t imagine her life without the wisdom and solace the ancient texts bring her every day. 

He suddenly lights up at a thought.

“Have you looked at Emily Wilson for inspiration? A friend gifted me her new edition last Christmas and there are some rather enlightening variations in it.”

“I admit I try to avoid contemporaries. Too afraid of plagiarizing, even if subconsciously.”

“I see… and I truly wish I could help. This is a very fascinating subject matter.”

They smile at each other in an understanding that comes from a deep passion, not shared by many, which is the more precious for it. And then, she does something her friend Severine would bake her an extra special apple _tarte_ for.

“I’ve been doing all my research and the text is solid, but another brain, a different set of eyes, would be very welcome, for the fine points, the magic, if you like… I need to submit this tomorrow and maybe you would be interested to read what I have done and comment? But I don’t want to impose. Or assume you have time for this…” she trails off.

“Oh, you are not! I’d very much like to spend some time.” He specifies, “With the texts, I mean. I don’t know how much help I might be, but how can I resist the opportunity?”

“I’m closing up in 2 hours.” She offers, “You could come back here. Or we could meet somewhere with a bit more space to spread out the materials?” She motions at the overcrowded counter that doubles as retail / research station and offers no seating.

“Best not at the coffee shop, presumably,” he smirks, “but I know somewhere nearby where your precious books would be perfectly safe, and we could still have some lovely tea.”

“Where’s that?”

“My house. I live just around the corner.”

She pauses but nods eventually, “A bit after seven o’clock?”

“Perfect. After being away for almost a month, the cupboards are bare, and that’ll give me time to pick up a few things at the shops on the way home. Have you got something I can write on?”

She pokes a button on the till to run off a long strip of blank receipt paper and passes it to him along with a pen. He writes the name ‘Tom’, an address and after a second adds a phone number, then pushes the note back across to her.

“So you can call if you get delayed or lost.” He offers.

She grins back.

“Ariadne’s string.”

“Is that what I should call you?” He looks for a name tag attached to her blazer but finds none.

She holds out her hand, “I’m Alex.”

“Thomas.” He says after a moment’s hesitation, enveloping her fingers in his. ”Or just Tom.”

Her phone rings, _La Marseillaise_ is filling the room and the gentle touch is interrupted.

“Sorry, do you need to get that?”

“No, it's fine. She’ll leave a message.”

The next moment the doorbell chimes and a group of young women, students from the look of it, enter.

Tom peeks over his shoulder at them and moves back from the counter with a smile, “I have to run anyway. I need to do the shopping and pick up my boy from the sitter. I’ll see you later!” He takes a few hasty steps towards the door but turns around before he exits, tilts his head and gives her a wave, timid, in a way. The three female customers giggle at their exchange but deny Alex’s offer for help and dive into the Shakespeare section.

Alex stares at the closed door for a moment before she goes back behind the counter. She has met mildly mannered intellectuals before, and they got along just fine. She has no issue with men being intimidated by her brain. Prefers it, actually. Tom seemed gentle, smart and maybe he would supply the missing ingredient to make her manuscript the winner. Arthur would have been the best to help her but... She pushes aside the sadness that thought always causes, and, like he himself would have done, for once leaning toward not a Greek but a Brit, reminds herself ‘ _Let’s not burden our remembrance with a heaviness that’s gone._ ’

## 17:32 GMT

_I don't need a friend who changes when I change and who nods when I nod; my shadow does that much better._

_—_ Plutarch

Tom left the book shop and after a few steps with strangely empty hands, realized that he had forgotten his coffee on the shelf. Embarrassed, not wanting Alex to know, he opened the door as slowly and carefully as possible to keep the jingling of the bell to a minimum and snaked his hand in to grab the cup. He realized he needn’t have worried, and indulged in a smile as he watched her, head down, fully engrossed in the books in front of her, oblivious to his presence. 

At the grocery store, unless he had people coming over, he usually just grabbed a basket, but he’d been away for so long and the kitchen was so bare, that he chose a cart, rushing down the aisles, choosing at random and wondering what tea Alex would prefer. The lingering jet lag made him indecisive, and as he watched his purchases being scanned, he laughed at himself, wondering what exactly he planned to make with a jar of chutney, a pouch of fresh gluten free lasagna noodles and a large bunch of spinach. At least he’d remembered coffee beans, eggs and milk, as well as a meaty soup bone for Toby. The shopping done, he headed for Ben and Kai’s house, more excited than a rational adult should probably be at the prospect of seeing his puppy.

A few of his friends, but Kai especially, had given him hell six months ago when he’d adopted Toby, asking if he knew what he was getting himself into and whether he’d considered how his repeated and sometimes extended absences would affect a dog. He hadn’t really, having fallen instantly in love with the liquid brown eyes and ridiculous fluffy ears of the little red pup and paying the adoption fee on the spot. Toby had proven to be a resilient little guy, an excellent companion but also a forgiving soul when handed over to spoiling relatives and friends. Especially Kai. Despite her initial reaction, she was not only a dog enthusiast and willing to take on puppy sitting duties that lasted longer than an overnight, but an invaluable drill sergeant. 

Tom had early on admitted to himself that he was far too soft and too easily amused by Toby’s bad behaviour to ever be a truly effective trainer, so the intrepid Canadian had started to co-parent, joining when he met with the instructor he’d hired. It had also worked out that the two of them gotten together a couple of times a week to put the puppy through his paces, but more importantly for her to try and beat the lessons they had attended into Tom’s head, to the immense delight of her husband.

There was no space in front of the house, so Tom had to park further down the street and ran all the way back and up the front stairs to ring the bell. As he tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for the latch to click open he wondered what was taking so bloody long. Finally, Kai’s face appeared on the security system screen and he waved at her, then bolted inside, taking the stairs two at a time. He heard Kai’s voice through the door of the flat, telling Toby to sit. When the door opened, Tom barely glanced at Kai, instead crouching down and holding his arms open to his dog. Toby however sat at the doorstep, trembling with anticipation at Kai’s side, her hand held open just above his head. 

“Wait.” She said and Toby did.

So did Tom, with raised eyebrows.

Keeping her voice level and calm, Kai gave the release command, “O.K.” and Toby rocketed out the door and into Tom’s arms, barking excitedly and wriggling, his feathery tail wagging so fast it looked like a helicopter blade. Tom laughed and rose to his feet, holding the squirming pup like a baby and allowed his face to be well and truly licked, before he got a chance to greet his human friend.

“Don’t tell me I’m spoiling him,” Tom finally said, leaning in and kissing Kai on the cheek, “I’ve missed him so much and I was gone so long this time, I was honestly afraid he wouldn’t remember me.” 

Toby, squished between them, took advantage of the opportunity to wash both of their faces at once and Kai giggled, backing away so Tom could come inside.

“Tom, sweetheart, how could he forget you? You face timed with him at least twice a week.”

Tom’s cheeks flushed red, “And if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it to my grave.” 

Ben came thundering down from the upper level while Tom put the pup down and hugged his friend.

“I just thanked your wife for taking care of Toby.”

Ben, smiling at the hint of him being less involved, leaned in to try and kiss Kai, but before his lips could make contact, Toby wriggled and shoved his head between the couple, to make space for himself, and stared at him unblinkingly.

Ben smiled indulgently at the little dog’s challenge, “Who’s a jealous boy?” he asked, scratching the top of the Toby’s head.

“Don’t encourage him,” Kai poked Ben in the ribs, “it’s a bad habit.”

“But it’s sweet,” Tom argued, “he’s protective of you.”

“Oh sure,” Kai said, “it’s cute now. It was rather less so when we had to move his bed into the hall and shut the door because he thought we were _wrestling_ so he jumped up on our bed and tried to join in.”

Tom made a face, “Too much information, thank you very much.” He crouched down and Toby immediately wagged his way over to him, flopping at his feet and exposing his pink, freckled tummy for scratching, “You should be ashamed of yourselves. Behaving like savages in front of a minor.”

“Shut up,” Kai laughed, “it’s your fault for not establishing boundaries with him and letting him sleep on your bed.”

“That’s right,” Ben agreed, “and anyway, he’s a dog. He thought we were playing.” 

“We were.” Kai grinned wickedly.

“For god’s sake!” Tom called out, “Clearly Toby’s not the only one I need to establish boundaries with. How did he take being banished to the hall?” Tom’s concern over his puppy’s wellbeing made the couple smile, “Did he cry?”

“He’d have cried if you did it, because he knows you’re a soft touch. Kai got up, threw his bed out the door, pointed and said, ‘basket’, and shut the door. He went to sleep because there are rules in this house.”

Kai snorted, “Don’t act as though you have anything to do with it. You’re as bad as he is, Mr. ‘ _It’s just a little Camembert, stop looking at me like that_ ’.”

Ben shrugged and removed himself from the discussion by volunteering to get Toby’s things together, but he was back moments later, having overheard Tom and Kai’s conversation.

“You have a date? You’ve only been home five minutes. How do you already have a date? Anyway ~~s~~ we’d be happy to keep Toby for another night…”

Tom shook his head, “I only said I met a woman and we’re meeting again later, but it’s not a date. She works in a bookstore and she’s got a volume of poetry that she’s translating. She found out I read old Greek, so we’re spontaneously getting together to talk about that.”

Ben chuckled, “She ‘ _found out’_ you can read Greek?”

“Yes, alright, I may have been showing off.”

“Because she’s pretty?” Kai smirked.

“Cut it out. Yes, she’s pretty but that’s not why, I mean it’s not _not_ why, but I really liked the way she seemed to be even more enthusiastic about Homer than me. And stop rolling your eyes, Ben, Shakespeare is not the only…”

Kai bluntly interrupted his rambling. “Are you going to shave that thing off your face before she comes over?”

Tom’s hand flew to his face and he stroked his chin, “What are you talking about? You don’t like it?”

“You look like that bust of Sophocles in the British Museum. Which is not a compliment, by the way. Your hair could use a trim too.”

His face fell and Ben leapt to his defence, “Don’t listen to her. She’s never liked facial hair. You look fine and anyway, what does it matter if it’s not really a date with the pretty lady who speaks ancient Greek?”

Tom stood for a moment in silence, his head reeling from a combination of their fast-paced questioning, jet lag and a looming awareness that he was more excited about his evening plans than he’d realized. He made his excuses, pleading shortness of time and Ben helped him carry Toby’s gear down to the car. Tom rolled the passenger window part way down so the dog could flap his tongue at passersby all the way home and he had to laugh when they drove through the front gate and Toby started barking in excitement. Tom let him out to run around and pee on everything while he unloaded the car, then put the kettle on and filled Toby’s bowls.

Scratching absentmindedly at his beard, he considered Kai’s comment and briefly wondered if she was right. It was such a treat not having to shave every day and maybe a bit of facial insulation wouldn’t hurt when he and Toby resumed their early morning runs. Kai didn’t like beards, but she didn’t speak for all women, right? And anyway, it wasn’t a date, so what did it matter? As he heard an inner voice (that sounded annoyingly like his sisters) chastising him on how appearances were immaterial and fleeting, he was surprised to realize, he had barely noted what Alex looked like. He squinted his eyes in the mirror, razor in hand, as he recalled his first pleased impression but what had fascinated him was the passion in her voice, the sparkle in her eyes, the way her features showed clearly what was going on in her no doubt brilliant mind. He had found her alluring, however he was not sure if she could be actually called beautiful.

He put the razor away. If Alex felt the way Kai did, well, he’d reconsider the shave. Or maybe not, because shouldn’t she like him hair and all? Would she maybe recognize him when he cleaned up? So far, she hadn’t, he didn’t think – and when did he start to assume everyone he met knew his name? He sighed, went to his bedroom and started looking through the stacks of books next to his nightstand for the distinct cover of the Odyssey.

Meeting women wasn’t hard. Finding an enticing body for a night or two wasn’t hard. Finding a person who shared some of his more obscure interests or didn’t start yawning when he mentioned the classics? Yeah, that was somewhat more unusual. Finding a partner that would offer both and on top was willing to take his public exposure, travel and weird working hours in a stride… And what about L-O-V-E.

From early youth he had been fascinated by the concept that in ancient Greek there were many terms used to differentiate what in English was simply consolidated into one word - love.

 _Philautia_ referring to love of one’s self, _Xenia_ the ancient Greek concept of hospitality, generosity. _Storge_ to be used for affectionate acceptance of familial love, _Philia_ for friendship as a kind of mental love and _Agape_ meaning selfless love, or charity. And then lastly _Eros_ \- the passionate or romantic love, pure emotion without the balance of logic.

He hadn’t been in what he considered a steady relationship for about two years. Of course he was seeing women on and off, and yes, he missed having someone more serious to spend time with, to share meals at home and talk late into the night; the warmth of familiar body in his own bed next to him that wasn’t furry and didn’t kick him awake chasing rabbits in his sleep.

He gave himself a mental slap. He had all kinds of love in his life. The prospect of an evening discussing Greek mythology was exciting and should be enough without his friends or himself trying to make it something it wasn’t. This evening could turn from _Xenia_ to _Philia._ This was not a date. No _Eros_. If all went well, this was a nice evening reminiscing about some old classics with a … _person_. Gender did not play a role, neither did facial hair. He would have invited _her_ over if she would have been a _him_ , just the same.

Right.

One last look and he closed the book of quotes that he had found wedged between bed frame and wall.

‘ _The whole life of a man is but a point in time; let us enjoy it.’_

Good old Plutarch had that right, too. 

****

## 17:35 GMT

 _Educating the mind without educating the heart is no education at all._

_—_ Aristotle

The bell tinkles. Without looking up from her desk, she knows Tom forgot his white take-out coffee container and resists commenting out loud but smiles to herself.

Some customers come and go, time flies as she keeps reading and contemplating the deity with a steely gaze and catches herself wondering how to describe a pair of eyes she sees in her mind quite clearly but aren’t female or Greek at all. _Stop wasting your time and focus._

Her phone rings again after a while but she doesn’t answer, having no patience for a chat now. She brings her attention back to the pages before her. After a while, the phone rings again. Desperate times call for desperate measures and she types out a quick text, although she dislikes this form of communication.

_‘Sorry, don’t have time right now, found someone who might help me finish the translation.’_

The phone rings almost immediately.

This time she does pick up, acknowledging with a sigh that Severine will just keep on trying, and she can talk and close up the store at the same time.

“Sorry, I really don’t have time for a chat,” she starts without greeting.

Severine will have none of that.

“Who did you find?” She asks, “Did Mr. High’n’Mighty from Berkeley finally call you back?”

“No, believe it or not, a customer walked, turns out he was at Cambridge as well, a lover of the classics with a feel for _flowery_ nuances. Which aren’t my strong suit, as you know. We started talking, he offered to add a second pair of eyes and invited me over after I close the store to see if our combined brain power would come up with the poetic flair Baronetess Kirkland wishes to see in the work. And yes, for the last time that is her real name and stop giggling.”

Alex transfers the phone between ear and shoulder to free up her hands, turns over the door sign and locks up.

“I know it’s reaching, but I’m a bit short of options by now. Alistair wouldn’t let me live this down, and - if I win this one - the betting pot has gotten big enough for me to afford that first edition… you know how much I’ve been lusting after it.”

Severine processes what she hears and is quiet. But not for long.

“So, a stranger walks in, and you agree to go to his house to translate…Greek poetry. What does he look like?”

“That’s all you got from what I said? And what does that have to do with anything?”

“In case I need to give a description when the police find your body. Why are you meeting at this man’s home? Why not a pub or a restaurant? Somewhere public.”

Alex sighs, “He lives around the corner, we need room to spread out and he understands the whole “no liquid policy”. His address is pinned to the board here in the tea kitchen, spelled in his handwriting, with his number - the police will have a very easy time when he tries to deny my gruesome murder.”

Severine sighs, “Fine. So, go to the stranger’s house. I still want to know what he looks like.”

Alex considers for a moment, “Well, he’s tall, kind of ginger, somewhat dusty and to be honest reminds me a little of the homeless guy I give my muffin to every morning when I come from the tube. Endearing but also a bit… greasy.” ~~~~

“ _The Muffin Man_? Who could be a serial killer, for all we know?”

Alex is getting impatient. Well, more impatient.

“Really? That poor man wouldn’t hurt a fly. And you are the one who tells me to be more spontaneous. It’s a happy coincidence, and please, no starry eyes; I have Meg for that. Speaking of, can you believe she’s already finished another manuscript and that ideally I should read it with her sitting next to me at the beach so she can see my initial and _untainted_ reaction as her _number one editor_?”

Severine giggles and says, “You have always been her number one _Guinea pig._ You know I do try to read for her as well but simply have no patience for her obsession with… obsession. And don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to switch the subject.”

Alex sighs, “I get what this might look like to an _over worried_ friend but if I am not concerned, you really needn’t be. He’s harmless. An academic thinker, and, he was on his way to pick up his little boy, so I’m not going to be alone with him.”

Severine laughs and finally seems to let go of the subject.

“The real reason for my call was actually to ask if you want a visitor. Maurice gave in and agreed to take me along to his conference in Paris, and since he’ll be busy until Friday with, well, business, I could be on the train to you for a couple of nights? Oh, and the girls say hi, by the way, and cannot wait to receive their presents from you - which in their minds is the important reason I should go to meet you. To hand deliver when I return home.”

“I told you, I would post the dresses, it’s cruel to have them wait for them so long to… “

Severine interrupts, “It’s good for them to have to wait a bit and not instantly receive what they ask for. Maurice is doing enough of that.”

“Yes, and you love it when he showers you with his little souvenirs that you happened to mention you wish you had the night prior his trips. Or when he takes you on trips, for that matter.”

They know each other well so this gentle teasing brings warmth to Alex’s stomach. She sighs.

“I miss you and I cannot wait to see you. Book the ticket and send me the ETA. But now I need to get my stuff together. Bye!”

As she leaves the store, her backpack sits heavy on her shoulders, containing her metal water bottle, emergency reading material - because you never know when you might want to indulge in some Pericles or le Carré - along with her laptop and the backup literature that somehow still has not found its way into the omnipresent online world. She tries not to question why she leaves on the professional leather heels she usually only wears in the store, instead of putting on her usual comfy sneakers.

The address is really just around the corner, a very nice house, which does not go with the image Thomas left in her mind of an underpaid, absentminded intellectual. She is wondering which bell she will need to ring since he only gave her his first name but realizes there is only one choice on offer. Tom opens the door with a bright smile and ushers her in.

“Wow,” she says, “this is quite something, gated and all… how many rooms are there?”

A bit taken aback by her greeting, Tom sounds like he needs to apologize.

“Well, I have a lot of family and friends come to visit so I do have a guest bedroom, two bathrooms and also… well, the big selling point for me was the reading room with shelves all the way to the ceiling - I think you should be able to relate to that.”

Alex sighs while she pokes her head up the stairs but follows Tom to the back of the house.

“Of course I can. And I admire the space you have on the walls for art. I have a tiny flat and to be honest there is not one free centimetre for even a Polaroid picture; everything is covered by bookshelves.”

Tom chuckles and finishes his tour through the living room with open kitchen, pointing behind himself, “And of course, there is the back garden for Toby.”

She raises her eyebrows.

“Toby,” Tom says, “who is still quite young and still a bit too excited about visitors, hence him being in the backyard, probably digging up the remaining plants.”

Alex is wide-eyed and scandalized. “You put your son in the backyard? All by himself?”

Tom looks equally so, then bursts out laughing, “I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he grins, making for the sliding door, “brace yourself.”

And in bounds a red bushy ball of fur, making a beeline for her at approximately the speed of sound. Toby is very intent on getting all the attention possible from the new love of his life and almost climbs on her lap in his excitement. This is despite the fact that she is standing up with her arms full of bags. Alex unceremoniously shoves those over to Tom, then grabs and cuddles Toby while cooing in a baby voice that is very rarely used: “Yes, you are such a good boy, such a pretty boy, come here, come here cutie pie.”

She notices Tom’s slightly astonished face while he gets out of the way for the pair of them on the floor.

“I’ll put the books over here, on the dinner table where we have space to spread out so we can have a look at what you actually came here for…when you are done making love to my dog, obviously.”

She appreciates his dry tone and hesitantly lets go of Toby as she dusts off her knees and stands up.

“I do value the chance to pick inspiration off another brain, so thank you very much for that. The flowery, ornate part of the Greek writings please me but as I said I struggle to put them on paper in English.”

She sits in the offered chair, gets a clip out and ties her slightly ruffled hair into a messy knot, which he takes as her sign of getting down to business. He offers tea and requests some more background on why exactly she is translating this part of the _Iliad_ , when so many versions already exist.

“Long story short, Alistair, the owner of the shop, has been invited into a very small circle to be allowed to bid for a rather substantial collection of classic volumes of first editions from a private library. The Baronetess wants to make sure that after she passes away her heirs don’t sell off her priced treasures to just anyone, but that they go to new homes where they will be appreciated for what they are. So she picked specialists and told them her terms. Now we are three left in the running and this new interpretation is the last test left to show the right kind of dedication and understanding she deems necessary to prove one’s worth to be handed over the library.”

“That sounds like the plot to an Indiana Jones movie.”

Alex looks at him with raised brows.

“I mean, that is very exciting to be considered the best and most professional in the UK.”

“The world.”

“What?”

“We are the last ones left from around the globe. This isn’t just any collection, it is unique… and when the books will be finally resold, unfortunately most likely individually and not as a whole, not only will almost all the profits be given to charity but the selling agent will have his name known for eternity. That is, if you believe Alistair.”

Alex smiles but also calculates in her head how to wake up the alert mind she saw in Tom at the store but is now hidden behind tired eyes.

“Obviously, it won’t be easy, to honor the stipulations she puts on the potential buyers but Alistair will be the perfect one to do right by her. If, well and only if, my translation moves her heart and makes her decide to trust us with them. So, no pressure.”

Tom sits silent for a moment, impressed mostly, but also a bit astonished to be part of such a quest. He looks at her, drinks the black tea he made to keep himself awake and they start going through the text line by line.

“So, what is it _you_ do for a living?”

They are taking a break, at Toby’s insistence, as he’s made it abundantly clear he will apparently die without belly rubs. Also, Tom’s focus is waning due to the jet lag despite the tea and the fascinating company.

“Well,” he hesitates, “I work in the entertainment industry.”

She translates this in her head, taking into account the price of the house he lives in as well as the kind of intellect their time together has made evident and also his earlier comments. ~~~~

“So, you’re like an agent,” her eyes flick across the room, to the shelves and shelves of books, “or a screenwriter?”

“An actor,” he replies, and she cannot quite make out the tone he uses while saying that.

“Ah, there’s a waiter in my favorite restaurant who is as well, part time, he has fabulous stories…”, she trails off, realizing how that might sound. “Though it would appear you’re doing much better than he, if you can afford this house.”

Tom swallows visibly (mostly his pride) and then says, “In a way. I was about to offer a fresh cup of tea, maybe to give us renewed wind for our sails and get us back to the text?”

She agrees and lets out Toby into the small yard as he discovers his mortal enemy, a squirrel, once again invading his territory. Tom putters around the kitchen and she helps him carry the teacups and milk to the table. They have had a great exchange so far, but until now she doesn’t feel they made much progress, and it shows in her face.

“All right, ready or not, here we come.” He jokes.

She looks at him seriously, and with a dead voice states, ' _Ave, Caesar, morituri te salutant!'_

He is slightly taken aback.

“Really, that bad?”

She chuckles and relaxes her face.

“I thought, being an actor, you would appreciate some drama to set the stage.”

After almost two more hours Alex is not only deeply love with Toby but taken with Tom. Well, his brain. He clearly has a wonderful mind and even though he has not done any work in the old languages in a very long time, he brings an understanding and intuition to the text that shows he must have been an exceptional student. He finds very ornate descriptions that make her gasp (inwardly) and she would have never thought of herself, that are so graceful and perfectly spot on that she feels enthusiastic and confident for the first time in days.

She rubs her eyes and, in the process, almost takes out her itching contact lenses.

“Alistair will be wanting to kiss you when I admit that it's you who made the amazing additions. And he will never let me forget that I - his supposed expert – needed help from an amateur.”

Tom, who sits close next to her in order to read the same lines as she does over her shoulder, yawns and isn’t phased a bit by her evaluation of his status. It’s actually a compliment coming from her. Amateur is levels up from moron, which is what she just a moment ago called some former colleague. 

He gives her a playful shove, and a smile that makes Alex’s stomach churn.

_Oh no. Not this._

“I think I’d prefer a kiss from _you_ …”

Alex looks almost horrified. Quickly, Tom tries to cover the awkward silence, which catches him by surprise. It was just a joke. Mostly. Well.

Her frozen face stops him halfway through to the next ill-advised attempt of making her laugh, and with a sudden realization he hastily apologizes.

“Oh, I didn’t realize, of course Alistair is your partner, and that was an inappropriate comment. I hope you didn’t think I was…”

“No, no! I mean, he is not my partner, I mean he is - my business partner - but I actually don’t have… I mean, I am not in a relationship. With him. Or anyone else.”

Alex looks away uncomfortably. Which would be the first time Tom sees her like this, because until this very moment she has been nothing but self-confident and, at least he likes to think so, very comfortable.

“By the way, do you know what language stomachs speak?” He tries to get them back to the relaxed mood from just two minutes ago.

Silence.

“Hungarian.”.

She blinks at him rapidly, which might have as much to do with her eyes being dry and tired as well as the quality of the joke.

“I guess I’m saying, let’s eat something, I’m starving. We deserve a reward after this marathon.”

Tom gets up with a screeching noise from the chair that rouses Toby rather unpleasantly from the hardwood floor. Alex looks at her watch and her eyes widen.

“I think I need to skip that and try to catch the last bus. I will require some sleep, to get up early tomorrow to put our result into the required format.”

While trying to suppress a huge yawn himself, Tom starts to argue the nutritional value of the organic spinach salad he could throw together in just three minutes, but Alex is already packing her things. She takes out the sneakers from the bag and puts them on her bare feet, collecting her other shoes on her way to the door.

“Tom, it was such a pleasure to work with you, I will always be grateful.”

If this isn’t a dismissal, he does not know what is. And no, this cannot be the end.

“Oh, I don’t think I will let you off the hook that easily,” he grins with a bravado he doesn’t feel. “You owe me at least a coffee for the one that went cold on the store shelf.”

“Of course. I could even throw in a gluten free chocolate chip cookie.” She glints a bit guiltily at him under the light in the hallway.

“I consider that a good first installment payment. Okay, if I collect it tomorrow, we could have lunch in your break.”

He knows he sounds eager but what is a man to do?

“Sorry Tom but I usually have lunch in the shop on my own, no one else there to man the till, you see, and the Baronetess invited the contenders to dinner, so, maybe some other time?”

She is hastily taking her belongings and reverses herself out of the door, shushing the horrified Toby back at Tom.

“I know baby, you will miss me, and I will miss you, but this is your home and I need to get back to mine.”

Tom takes a tight hold of the collar of a devastated Toby trying to sneak out the closing door with Alex. He returns the look that speaks of utter betrayal over the hasty departure of the newly found love of Toby’s young life and pets the whining animal.

“I hear ya, buddy, I hear ya”.

Tom switches off the light in the hallway but only moves when Toby impatiently tucks at the hand that still holds on to his collar, holding him back from darting to his bowl with treats.


	2. Tuesday, April 14

## 

## 00:40 GMT

 _He_ _is a wise_ _man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has._

 _—_ Epictetus

Alex leans her head at the glass window next to her with a loud sigh. If the only other two passengers on the night bus look at her weirdly, she does not care. What an awkward but also productive evening. First her assumption of Tom being a family man - but that was an honest mistake anyone would have made - and then the rather cheesy pick-up line. Why did she not reply with a laugh or a joke and let him know she isn’t interested in that kind of thing? No, she bursts into flight mode and most likely bruises … Toby’s feelings. Why did Tom have to hit on her, the evening had been so lovely until that moment, and what does it matter whether she has a partner or not? She isn’t looking for anything beyond some academic exchange. Tom is a nice guy, but her interest in him, if any, is purely scholarly. And possibly canine related. Thank god there is no reason for them to meet again, surely he understood her polite evasion and if not, was at least put off by her abrupt departure. 

The bag she carries for some reason seems much heavier when she drags it up to her flat, while she is berating herself for overthinking and blowing this whole thing out of proportion. The water of the shower seems much hotter and the blanket much more suffocating when she tries to relax into sleep. A nice guy and no, not interested, she repeats under her breath. She simply refuses to think about the evening consciously when she closes her eyes but, in her slumber, she cannot exercise this kind of control and wakes exhausted with fuzzy memories of puppy eyes and _Damocles_.

“Yes, Alistair, I will have the document ready by 4 o’clock, and yes, you can go to the dinner alone. I don’t mind. No, it’s okay. All good. Yes. Thank you. I will speak with you tomorrow. Bye. No, I am not mad. Bye.”

She hangs up and rests her head for while on the counter. “Thank god”, she mutters finally into the dry pages of the second edition of Benet's Reader's Encyclopedia.

“That bad?” Asks a now familiar voice.

Her reading glasses fall off her head as, startled, she lifts her head too quickly.

“Where did you come from?”

“Well, there was a door, and it said, ‘ _The bookstore is open_ ’. “ Tom pauses for a moment. “In Latin mind you, but the fact still stands, so I pushed the handle down and here I am.” A muffled but distinctly impatient yelp can be heard from outside.

“And so is Toby, but I wasn’t sure about the policy of the establishment or whether he would fit on the shelf, so I left him outside. But he really wants to come in. I think he’s missed you.”

He leans down and picks up the glasses to hand them to Alex.

She takes a big breath and her manners resurface, “Sorry, I was just totally somewhere else for a moment, and of course Toby is welcome to come inside.”

Tom turns to get the evil barking machine reunited with his new queen, when Alex adds: “That is, he does know how to hold his bladder, right?”

“He would never embarrass himself, or me, in front of a lady like that.”

Two knocked over book stacks and a belly rub later Alex feels blissfully careless about liquids but still apprehensive about how to make her disinterest, in whatever it is Tom seems to be interested in, known. In the British way, she starts off with an apology for her hasty departure the previous night.

“Also, I cannot tell you how happy you made Alistair this morning when I emailed him my draft.”

Tom raises his hands.

“I am going to become embarrassed if you keep up saying that. It really was you all along. I just tickled your brain the right way. But if you are serious about being thankful, I am still open to coffee and a cookie.”

His boyish face lights up when she hesitantly agrees.

“I know you can’t leave the shop, so tell me what you want for yourself, and I’ll come back in just a sec… and don’t tell me you don’t drink in the store. You trust yourself that much, no?”

Alex closes her open mouth when the words of denial won’t come and takes the leash from Tom.

“I didn’t have time for food yet, so I’ll have the tomato on rye sandwich. Tell them it's for me and they’ll know how much aioli to add. I have my water bottle in the back.”

“Sure, lunch will be served in no time.”

Tom is grinning and out of the door as she looks down at Toby. She could swear he shrugs his shoulder as if to say, ‘ _I’m just here at the smart end of the rope, I don’t pretend to know what’s going on at the other one_.’

So much for not encouraging Tom. So much for keeping him at arm’s length. But, no time like the present, so during lunch she will make it clear that she is as not available for in anything but an intellectual exchange. Platonic on Plutarch, if you will. Right, good plan.

Alex is laughing so hard, her eyes water. Tom’s tales about teachers and people they both knew at Cambridge despite their age difference, are so on point and relatably funny, she isn’t aware of the time passing. It’s a slow Tuesday afternoon, the store hardly being busy with walk in customers anyway that time of day. The phone rings twice for orders, and she knows there are probably some e-mails in the mailbox of the shop requesting either books or services, but she does not find it in her to care much. Toby started dozing in a sunbeam in front of the ancient Latin medical books and has by now moved further down to their small but potent Shakespeare collection, twitching and dream-chasing bunnies, giving little quiet yips.

“I swear, that’s what he said!” Tom obviously enjoys his retelling, and underneath the beard and the glasses she can spot the young smartass pupil he must have been. She wonders why he prefers the dishevelled hair. Given the home he owns, she has to assume he can certainly afford a barber as well as a piece of clothing that’s not second hand but at the same time she likes how comfortable he is with himself. Other than most men she knows (admittedly intellectuals not actors, and damn, she forgot to google him), his slightly unkempt appearance does not stem from lack of interest or funds but shows that he is self-confident enough to know his worth isn’t reflected in his outward appearance, and to hell with those that judge a book by its cover. She experiences a twinge of shame at that thought.

She feels this free-spirited attitude tipping over onto her, and she cannot remember the last time she enjoyed herself so much in a man’s company. Well, Alistair maybe, and with Martin for a while probably but despite the time that’s passed since that relationship, the thought of it takes her out of the lovely mood. Tom seems to notice and sobers up.

“I’ve probably overstayed my welcome and you need things ready before the dinner you mentioned, I assume?”

Alex hears the regret in his voice, and she feels it echoed in her core. She doesn’t want this conversation to end; against all her reservations, she’s enjoying his company; wants to prolong it and refuses to examine the reasons why she shouldn’t. She assures herself she overrated his comment last night; people say a lot that is just for fun, it was just a trivial flirtation. The whole time she’s spent with Tom has a friendly neighbor type tone and feel to it. Not exactly purely academic - and damn is he smart – but still respectful and in a way abstract, so wouldn’t it be nice if they’d become friends? Therefore, before she can come up with a white lie, she replies truthfully.

“Yes, I will have to finish up in the next hour, but the dinner will take place without me. I have a feeling Alistair has further plans that do not include myself, now that he has such good news to deliver.”

Tom lights up and Alex instantly wants to paddle back.

“Well, then dinner with me it is. Come on, I am not nearly done telling you about the mischief Claire Templeton was up to at the science lab. We could go the restaurant you mentioned or, I still have the spinach salad, and a delightful goat cheese, I might add? Unless you are a vegetarian then I am sure pomegranate is just to your liking?”

Tom’s eager attempt to please Alex gives her pause once more. This will lead nowhere and needs to stop. She looks at him and tries to imagine what he sees, why it would matter and how to gently let him down.

In what is meant to be seen as a sisterly gesture, she reaches out to remove a crumb that got caught in what he calls a jumper and has been bothering her since she spotted it. Alex opens her mouth to tease him about it as well as decline the invite but he catches her hand at his chest, and the atmosphere changes. Not negatively, but it is charged all of a sudden. Tom tilts his head a fraction and holds on to her suddenly numb fingers.

“Come on, dinner and conversation, what can go wrong?”

His eyes sparkle mischievous, daring her and she agrees with a smaller voice than she is used to hearing from herself.

“All right, dinner at yours, after seven again?”

Damn. That was not the plan.

## 09:19 GMT

 _Just because you do not take an interest in politics_ _doesn't mean politics won't take an interest in you._

 _—_ Pericles

Tom had stood in the dark hallway on Monday night, wondering what the hell had just happened. 

Had anyone asked him 24 hours ago, all he would have wanted at that point was to get home to some days of solitude and quiet. 

A few hours ago - and especially after he had given himself a sincere talk to not make this into anything but a stimulating evening with a _person_ \- had anyone told him that they would succeed with their task, he would have looked forward to the intellectual challenge.

Not even a few minutes ago had anyone denied the attraction between Alex and him, he would have laughed.

And now he stood in the dark hallway absolutely bewildered.

Alex had entered the house, and by stepping into his home, made it her sphere instantly - with unconscious arrogance and intimidating self-confidence (well, intimidating for lesser men), unaware of how captivating her refreshing directness paired with a certain innocence was, how familiar her strangeness had immediately felt to her host.

He’d been fascinated by her facility with the translation, miles beyond his even if he hadn’t been so out of practice, but he brought his own gift; an ability to feel the intent of the writing. Maybe his skill at interpretation was why he was good at dissecting scripts and characters, he couldn’t say, but Alex had been impressed. Or had seemed impressed, he corrected himself.

Throughout the hours he had kept reminding himself to focus (the jet lag didn’t help either), but her bright presence stirred emotions he was able to portray but hadn’t _felt_ sincerely for a long time. His body had started to prickled from the moment she brushed by him in the kitchen as they sat down, like lemonade powder on the tongue, and he’d felt they’d connected, more with every minute that passed as they established a quick rapport, easily bounced ideas around, finished each others sentences.

When they were done, Alex had been glowing with glee just as giddy as him, and despite his fatigue the connection he felt with her, was real and there was no doubt in his foggy mind she experienced it too. Her eyes had been so welcoming it was the most natural thing in the world to celebrate their achievement with a little flirtation, an invitation to deepen their acquaintance.

And then she was gone like a mirage and he felt like a fool, left behind in the darkened hallway, as it was. Tom slowly followed Toby back to the living room and sat on the sofa, staring at the empty teacups on the dining room table where they had sat companionably just a short while ago. He should clean up and get to bed as well, tomorrow being a busy day including dinner plans with producer friends of Ben’s. But all he could think of was, _what just happened_?

The inner assurance from a few hours ago seemed like a joke now. He didn’t know what had hit him the moment he opened up to her, and not just the door. He did know however, she was everything else but _just a person_.

He _missed_ her and judging from Toby’s whining from the front door, his dog did as well. How could he miss her already?

“Oh hell”, he said aloud, as it dawned on him, but so softly that Toby didn’t come to check. For a moment he rested his face in his hands, exhaled, shook his head at himself and got up to tidy the strangely empty kitchen.

Later in bed Tom kicked his feet out, untucking the sheet from the foot of the bed and rolled onto his side, telling himself to stop being an idiot and go to sleep. A moment later, his head shot off the pillow at the sound of his phone on the bedside table. He scrambled for it in the dark and flipped it over to read the screen. He was disappointed, but smiled in the glow of his mobile and texted back:

_‘Kai, mind your own bloody business.’_

The next morning, as Tom dawdled over his coffee and Toby crunched his way through a bowl of kibble, the phone beeped again.

“I called to ask how your _not-a-date_ went.”

“Ben, I’m wouldn't happen to be on speaker, would I?”

“Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind.”

“That doesn’t answer the question. And stop quoting lines at me.”

Ben chuckled, “You are on speaker but Kai’s not here, she’s gone to work.”

“It’s not that I won’t end up telling her eventually, but I know her and if I’m not careful I’ll spend the next two weeks trying to stop her going into a certain bookstore.”

“Mmm… you’re not wrong. It might depend though on how the evening went. And don’t worry, she thinks I can’t keep a secret, but I can, if there is one to keep? How’d it go?”

Tom sipped his coffee, “Fine at first. I think. I mean, the translation part was stellar, and I really enjoyed it. It was like being back at school for a few hours, just with a special private teacher this time around.“

“And did she have glasses and take out her ruler to spank you when you weren’t paying enough attention?”

“You’re such a prick. Why do I tell you anything?”

Tom held the phone out from his ear to keep from being deafened by Ben’s laughter.

“I’m sorry,” Ben was trying to get himself under control, “do keep on talking.”

“We really hit it off, I felt. Unfortunately, it had gotten late, the jet lag was killing me and then rather abruptly she said she needed to get home and to bed as well.”

"And you couldn’t convince her you deserved a reward for all the hard work? You’re usually so smooth, much smoother than I ever was.” 

“That’s not really difficult. In any case at the end though I did try to flirt but made a fool of myself… she just totally blanked.” Tom was grateful for the thoughtful silence on the other end.

“When was the last time that happened to you?”

“What? That a woman isn’t flirting back at me? All the time, I should think.”

“Tom, that’s not what I meant, you’re selling yourself short. You are kind, intelligent and charming, not to mention, so damned pretty when you try. I meant how could she not be interested? Seriously, is this Alex mad? Married? Gay?”

“She isn’t in a relationship, she said. She’s definitely not mad and I suppose she could be gay but that wasn’t the impression I got. There was genuinely something between us. There was something in her eyes...”

Ben suggested dryly, “So, you want to see her again, take another shot at it?”

“At the risk of you making fun of me, yes, I really want to see her again. Even though I cannot quite make head or tail of her behaviour. And you want to know something really funny? I struggle at how to go about it; it’s been quite a while since I was the one having to work at it.”

“The movie star thing doesn’t do it for her?”

“Actually, I don’t think she has the first clue about that.”

Ben snorted, “Fuck off.”

“No, seriously. There was never a hint of recognition in her eyes; not at the bookstore, not when she was here. I’d swear to it.”

“That’s interesting.”

“How about… she and Toby seemed to have formed a bond. I walk him that way all the time to get my coffee, so it’s not creepy for me to drop by the shop so soon again. Is it?”

“If you don’t make it seem like a big deal, you can pick up where you left off and see if there is anything between you, or, you’ve simply made a new friend.”

“Or a fool of myself. I genuinely enjoy her company and all those books…”

“Right,” Ben said dryly, “that’s why you’re behaving like a complete numpty. The books.”

Tom chuckled, “Well, she is awfully smart.”

“Then take your dog for a walk, drop by the store and turn on the Hiddleston charm.”

“Right!” Tom got to his feet, “I’m going right now.”

“Only, Tom? Maybe do tell her what you do for a living.”

Tom rolled his eyes, “What? You may not have liked me before, but hey, does it change your mind to know I have 7 million followers on Instagram?”

“That’s not what I meant. If this woman has indeed been living under a rock and has no clue who you are, shouldn’t she better hear it from you than someone else?”

Tom exhaled, “I’ll think about it.”

“Sure, since you’ve had such unerring instincts about this already.”

“I only meant that it might be nice to start getting to know someone without _that_ looming over us. You know? Like it used to be.”

“I understand what you’re saying Tom, but on the other hand, you don’t want her to think you started out being dishonest. Or, Christ, maybe she’s the one who’s messing around with you after all and she knows exactly who you are.”

“Yeah…I don’t think so. She doesn’t seem the sort.”

“Well, I’ll take your word for it. Though, if you have any doubts after seeing her again, I can always send Kai over there to ask some pointed questions.”

Tom laughed, “Please God, no.”

## 22:45 GMT

_If it’s not right, don’t do it; if it’s not true, don’t say it._

_— Marcus Aurelius_

Alex is not aware of the fact that she has drunk the second bottle of white wine all by herself. Tom has obligingly kept filling her glass as she likes the sweetness of it much more than he does. Also, she usually does not drink on an almost empty stomach and therefore, she’s also not aware of the excitement she shows talking about her dream pet as a child. Which, _yes_ , believe it or not, is an octopus. 

“No, I’m serious, they are so intelligent, and I think they’d make great companions. They have blue blood and three hearts. Enough to love me forever. And a lot of arms to hug and hold open my books for me to read at the same time. I would have named him Oscar Octavius Octopus. The First.”

Tom is utterly charmed by the uninhibited Alex before him, soaks up every tiny fact she imparts with, enjoying their joined giddy glow once again, even if more cautiously so.

Right from the moment he’d welcomed her back into his house, he’d made sure to be warm and funny but at the same time respectful of her space as well as the fact, that they apparently could talk about anything and everything, except the subject he was most interested in - her. The private Alex, not the professional one.

Throughout dinner they compared further notes on their experiences in Cambridge and after dessert they settle on the couch, Toby and his best friend Piglet nestled between them.

“I cannot believe you did not see the exhibition… you truly missed out on that one.” Alex looks for her glass which is still on the table, gets up and brings the half empty bottle with her.

“You are not just saying that because you were part of the advisory board, right?”

She knows Tom is teasing and throws Piggy for what seems like the hundredth time this evening towards the hallway. Neither Toby nor she seem to grow tired of the dog skidding along the hardwood floor and wrestling the stuffed animal. She takes another sip from the glass. Her inhibitions might be lowered but her intellect is sharp as ever.

“I loved the idea to broaden the topic of _Troy_ beyond the mythical and archaeological aspects, to challenge the visitor to see beyond the heroism and find the connection to current conflicts, to empathize with not just the wounded soldiers, who undoubtedly suffered what we nowadays call PTSD, if they survived at all, but to consider the often unsung victims, the brutalized women, the trauma of not just children but generations to come. Of enslaved and homeless human beings, becoming refugees through no fault of their own and even though it was 3000 years ago, still influencing our collective subconscious.”

Toby has fallen asleep but Tom is wide awake. When Alex looks at him questioningly, he realizes she is waiting for a reply.

“I regret my missing out deeply. Keep talking, what else can you tell me?”

“Well, I also liked the little side nod they gave to the theme of the golden apple of discord.”

Tom can’t resist her mischievous smile. “Go on, do tell.”

“Well, they made the smart decision to include the picture _Elizabeth I and the Three Goddesses_.”

“I admit, I know a lot about the Elizabethan era but this doesn’t sound familiar.”

“Oh. Let me see…” Alex squints her eyes, thinking about how to best describe what she likes about the painting.

“It is an intriguing gender reversal, with Queen Elizabeth playing the role of Paris in the judgement scene. She decides to keep the “apple”, the golden orb of power for herself, as she has no need for the goddesses’ gifts. She already combines them all, as a beautiful, wise and powerful monarch.”

Tom nods. “But that also means she has no need for men or love?”

“Well, she wasn’t called Virgin Queen for nothing. Though that has little to do with love.”

Her cunning sense of humor should not come as such a surprise.

He starts to unconsciously reach out to brush a strand of hair out of Alex’s flushed face, possibly to better see her enigmatic eyes, while she at the same time gets up. The gesture goes unnoticed.

“I need the loo.”

She walks a remarkably straight line, however, once the door closes quietly behind her, there is a rather loud crash; presumably the bag of Emma’s emergency toiletries she had left while she used his house, and that he had meant to put away.

Toby who had spread out on his back, all legs relaxed and hence sure coincidentally but effectively blocking an unhindered escape through the main door, comes to check with Tom whether their visitor is okay.

“I’m all right. Everything’s all right.” Alex immediately calls out, then mutters something unintelligible. After Tom and Toby hear water run, there is some suspicious quiet, but then she is back.

“There is a _Laurence Olivier Award_ in your guest bathroom.”

She stands awkwardly at the entrance to the kitchen, holding a little statue, and two pairs of very different eyes watch her intently. Time to man up, Tom thinks, scratching Toby’s ears, trying for nonchalance.

“Isn’t that where everyone keeps their awards? To amuse the guests and appear humble?”

“Mhm. I wouldn’t know. I don’t have a guest bathroom. Or an _Olivier_ for that matter, which you have because...?”

“Because I was lucky enough to win it.”

She looks at the prize in her hand, deciphering his name with squinted eyes, “I thought so. Is it terrible that I don’t recognize you, Mr. ... Hiddleston? I meant to google after you left but with the delivery of the new books…”

He is relieved; he laughs.

She hastens to add, “I’m really sorry for the comment yesterday, I never meant to imply you were not good, or successful. It’s just that I only know artists like Desmond, that have to work by day to afford their art by night. Anything else I should know about? Have you done any telly I might have seen?”

Alex is unsure she can stand up unaided anymore and leans against the kitchen bar to observe Tom. She places the little statue between them, next to the pepper mill and oil cruet. Again, he makes a gesture that she is coming to recognize as embarrassment. 

“Yes, I’ve done some plays, and also TV, some movies. The best known though … I did some Marvel movies, maybe?”

She isn’t quite sure she understands and looks at him expecting more detail.

“Are you asking me…?”

So, he continues, “You know, Ironman and so on?”

She takes a wild guess because she has the distinct feeling, they’re having totally separate conversations. However, she cannot be certain, seeing that her head is getting heavier by the minute and the couch looks very enticing all of a sudden.

“Ironman? A film about triathletes? I can see you in that, you look the part.”

He didn’t know it seemed he had been unconsciously holding his breath the whole time he’d known her, and now he lets it go. 

Alex truly is a treasure. How likely would it be to meet someone with no idea what he does for a living? Or more importantly not a care in the world for it? It would be very rare, same as her being an accumulation of his unconscious aspirations in a potential partner, and for a moment he ponders again whether she might just be pretending... but one look at Alex’s sweet, wine flushed face makes it clear that she sincerely and seriously has no idea. The assumption was ridiculous from the beginning, but he has learned to doubt the faces that smile at him all the bloody time. And at the same time, he knows in his heart, that deceit is not in her nature. If she knew anything about him, she’d say so. It had been a bizarre thing for him when yesterday, she had tried to be nice and quickly change the subject from his occupation; when she had picked up on what she thought was his discomfort and maybe embarrassment about discussing his career, assuming he wasn’t as successful as he’d like and that was what made him hesitant to talk about what he did for a living. Her kindness - even though unnecessary - is a further check mark on a list he didn’t even know he had.

“No, not about sports,” Tom tries to hide his chuckle with a cough, “but you know what, it doesn’t really matter. It’s not important, really. How about another glass of wine?”

“Better not, and I think you should call me a cab or otherwise I’ll have to stay on your couch. It was really lovely; please write down the name of that delicious grape juice you poured into me because I’ll have forgotten it by tomorrow.”

While Alex keeps on babbling and looks for her shoes that have undoubtedly ended up in Toby’s corner, Tom considers inviting her to stay over but decides otherwise at the last second.

He is very much enjoying every moment with Alex but judging from her reaction to the previous night's innocent remark about the kiss, she might not believe in a selfless intent. He’s having a bit of trouble believing it himself at the moment.

His blooming appreciation for her and her absolute ignorance of so many realities of his life endear her to him immensely. How many female friends does he have like that, outside the industry? And couldn’t that be just the most perfect starting point for more? But whether or not this goes further, her avoidance of the subject of previous relationships baffles him a bit. She enjoyed his recollections of various partners and their quirks, even urged him on to tell her more, but her reticence to reciprocate keeps him a bit puzzled. She holds certain things closer to her chest, he reasons with himself as he orders her the cab. He observes the time shown in the display of his phone after hanging up. Yes, it’s late, but he really doesn’t want this evening to be over.

“Oh no, baby!”

Tom almost drops his mobile when he hears her cry out.

Turns out Toby has been sick - really sick - on the tiles (thank god) in the kitchen and Alex is anxiously stroking his ears while obviously being helpless about what to do, and still a bit drunk.

The little bugger most likely got into the trash again, and right - Tom spies the remains of their chicken dinner taken apart behind the corner of the counter. He had packed it up tightly but Toby it seems is not just growing in height but resourcefulness. Usually he wouldn’t be that concerned, it happens once in a while - and wouldn’t they have to keep working on that in the future - but after the last time, the vet had ingrained into him to keep Toby away from bones and there is no way of knowing if that insatiable monster inhaled any.

There is a honk at the front gate. The cab he ordered has already arrived and Alex it seems is out of her mind with worry.

“What can we do, what is wrong with him?” She looks up at Tom with frightened eyes, and again down to when Toby lets out a groan, “Oh baby, I know, I’m so sorry you are not feeling well.”

She keeps patting the whimpering pup and Tom can’t be sure if Toby is milking the situation for her sympathetic attention, or if he’s truly ill. Not being willing to chance it, Tom grabs the throw blanket from the couch and wraps Toby in it.

“I think I’ll take him to his vet, just to be sure he is all right. Can you call yourself another cab? If you don’t mind, I’ll use the one I called for you. Just close the door behind you, when you leave?”

She looks at him like he’s a monster.

“Are you out of your mind? I’m going with him!”

That is how they end up at the Village Vet Hospital Hampstead at one o’clock in the morning. Toby is fine (thank god) and apparently does not understand all the commotion once he is done puking for the last time in front of his doc who also took some x-rays to confirm his esophagus and stomach are clear of obstructions.

Alex is sitting in the waiting room and terribly relieved when her two guys appear again.

“We will have a talk about this kind of behaviour in the morning, young man,” Tom recites at a totally uninterested dog, while Alex is on her knees to hug the hell out of Toby.

They call a cab again and Tom delivers her to her doorstep, taking mental note of the address - just in case, you never know - and is back in his bed falling asleep exhausted shortly after.

Alex is also in bed by then, but not asleep. Far from it. The incident has sobered her up and she keeps thinking of Toby, mostly. She will have to google Tom in the morning for sure. There was something off about him explaining about the movies, and knowing is always better than not knowing, as Arthur used to say.

She very much enjoyed the evening - well, up to when she was scared to death for Toby - and she cannot help but admit that this is a bit more than just two people with a similar background enjoying some wine (come to think of it, she probably had most of it) and conversing about their education among a million other things. 

He is smart, and not in the sleazy academic way she learned to despise after Martin. Weirdly enough, she also doesn’t notice Tom’s scruffiness anymore (much) but only remembers the color of his eyes that somehow seem to lighten up in happiness when he succeeds in making her laugh.

She sees now, looking back at her arrival at his home tonight, she hadn’t cared whether their interaction was based on intellect. It had been fun, she had not overthought or second guessed (much) before the alcohol had kicked in. It had helped, true, but she had been remarkably comfortable in his company and otherwise wouldn’t have had the wine in the first place.

Tom is a true entertainer by nature, but unlike some who use the limelight purely to shine their own, he always makes her feel included, always somehow makes her the center of attention, come to think of it. And it isn't artificial or uncomfortable. It’s like a dance, one she hadn’t participated in, in a very long time...if ever. A dance of equal partners, a slow dance that isn’t a means to an end but a sole purpose on its own.

A million years back at university, in the beginning, Martin had ignited a similar hope in her. And had it really been that long? He had used his looks and manipulated her with his charm and, in the end, made it very easy for her to swear off relationships. While Tom...he is no pretty beau, thank god, and his charm is less polished. More boyish and in a certain way harmless. But not witless, never that.

Martin had maybe been the most important lesson she received at university and once she had erased him from her curriculum, there had been so many endeavours of a different kind. She had never been bored or missed… _dancing_. 

But. 

Tom keeps astonishing her and defying her assumptions. It keeps her off balance but surprisingly she feels okay with floating, up in the air, mostly. She tries to neatly label him - first, just as a scruffy customer possibly hitting on her. Later, as a scruffy intelligent guy being a great comrade of sorts - and now, possibly a smart male friend with kind eyes. But that is where it stops. She has no use for other labels, doesn’t need or want more. She had learned her lessons from Icarus and Martin, thank you very much.

Severine of course keeps talking about her getting into the dating pool, about getting her feet back in the water. Well, it is easy for her to say, with that perfect husband and kids and all the tarts in the world. Alex sighs, stopping that line of thinking as she had taught herself – well, she and her yoga teacher in India, way back when her spine had been as flexible as a whip, when she had tried to fix what wasn’t damaged, until understanding that this is the way she is made.

She had chosen a path with open eyes and walked it unwaveringly - some souls were simply meant to do so, by themselves. Nothing wrong with that, and she is by no means alone, she has her friends, and books, and Arthur of course, and she loves the freedom of her world and the independence it brings.

But right now, in the middle of the night, with Tom’s voice still in her ear and the feeling of his companionship and shared worry next to her in the cab, she wonders if she has missed an important road junction unknowingly and how to turn around for maybe a second chance of an exit from the highway that suddenly seemed to lead nowhere, very fast. Her last almost unconscious thought is startling. ‘ _Oh Mum, how I wish I could talk to you about him’_.


	3. Wednesday, April 15

__

## 15:45 GMT

_The words of the truth are simple._

_—_ Aeschylus

“Seriously. Seriously?” Exclaims Severine at 300 km/h, the connection sometimes a bit jerky as she is on the Eurostar from Paris, “You did not know who he is? Tom Hiddleston? How can you not know?”

“Why are you saying it like that? You wouldn’t know the current headmaster of Oxford or the Greek spelling champion of 2017!”

Severine snorts and interrupts, “Yeah, but you do?”

“No, and that is exactly my point. What does it matter? It’s not really important to me if his name comes up 19 million 5 hundred thousand times on Google with equally as many pictures to match – and no, I did not make that number up.”

“So, what _is_ important to you?”

Alex swallows and thinks back to this morning when she woke up, and for a moment, floated in her mind, and smiled without no apparent reason. Then she had wondered why she felt what cotton candy smelled like and had stopped smiling. 

“Alex, keep breathing” Severine reminds her, listening to the silent panic on the other side.

“What I’m saying is. Some of those pictures, most of the pictures are... I mean, apparently, he owns suits. Or maybe they are rented? It’s impossible that it’s supposed to be him. I mean, it looks like him but... I don’t know, like, photoshopped? Maybe that’s it, he is photoshopped.”

Severine can be very slow when she wants to be.

“Okay. So what? I don’t understand; any other woman would be overjoyed.”

Alex pauses and takes a deep breath.

“I woke up this morning and wanted to write him a text. Me. A text.”

Severine makes a thoughtful noise.

“I wanted to thank him for dinner and convince him to lend me Toby, his dog, for a walk. And then realized I wanted him to join me on that walk.”

Severine concludes: “And you got scared.”

“No, I… I needed to think about a bit more first, so that’s why I googled him when I arrived in the shop.”

“And then you had a nice reason not to text him.” Severine gently continues, “Because when you thought you had him nicely pegged with a label that states: ‘ _harmless.’ ,_ he jumps off the shelf. _”_

Alex sighs.

“I wish I could deny that. I know it’s irrational. I still feel, I don’t know, betrayed? I know it’s idiotic. But he wasn’t supposed to be… like that.” She is aware she sounds like a petulant child and pulls herself together. “Sorry to spring this on you like that. Let’s talk about it like civilized women when we have a drink in our hands. When will you arrive do you think?”

“Sure, _mon chere_. We’ll talk. I’ll see you in about 3 hours. Just do me a favour and stop googling until then?”

Alex could swear they are disconnected by the high-speed train moving so fast, and no one would be able to prove it otherwise as she drops her phone back in her bag.

She frowns at the pictures on the monitor in front of her a bit longer and makes a conscious effort to close the browser. Customers come and go. She finally decides on what to text Tom and gets her phone out again.

_‘How is Toby? How did he sleep? Is he still in pain? By the way I finally looked you up online, now I realize why you seemed familiar. I actually saw the play you got the award for. In my defense we all looked a bit younger back then.‘_

She wants to add something like _I knew there was something wrong with you, you were just too good to be real_ ’ but stops herself.

While she is on her way home from the shops with two bottles of gin, she receives his reply.

_‘Toby is doing great, he says thank you for asking.’_

This is accompanied by a snapshot of Toby standing up against a tree in the backyard, barking at some invisible foe above his head and out of his reach.

_‘And I am honored you remember the performance. Do you feel like seeing some more great theatre? I have tickets for the NT next Tuesday.’_

She pauses in front of her door and balances the bottles while awkwardly typing _._

_‘I’m not sure.’_

There is an immediate reply. As if he already known she would be hesitant.

_‘I could come by tomorrow again for lunch and tell you why you need to see the play? Hint: It’s got some juicy Oedipus complex in it.’_

_‘not sure’,_ she repeats her message and enters her flat. She puts her shoes away and takes off the jacket and feels awful for some reason. She watches the little dots moving, suggesting he is typing. And meanwhile agonizes about her faulty punctuation. What is she doing? What is he doing?

 _‘Is everything all_ _right?’_ he writes back.

Alex is saved from having to formulate an answer she doesn’t yet have, by the shrill ring of the doorbell and the arrival of Severine. They hug each other like the long-lost soul sisters they are. Alex deeply inhales Severine’s smell of Chanel and baking and home.

“So, now spill.”

“You haven’t even taken your shoes off!”

“What is it with you and shoes…”, Severine drops them at the front door while looking through her purse, taking out a battered tome.

“Here is the book you wanted - now where is my G&T, and what’s going on with you and Mr. Google?”

They settle at the big kitchen table; Alex’s flat is not big enough for a sofa. It was either that or a dining table with 6 chairs which doubles as working station, so no question really. Also, they will have to share her king size bed later, same as they did when they met as teenagers.

The ice cracks in their glasses as they dive right back into a conversation that feels like it had not stopped since they were 14; when Severine healed her grief by learning to bake tarts while Alex learned to love tarts and trust Severine with her pain in turn.

“He is articulate, and humorous. Brilliant with a peculiar brain. He told me the most amusing stories. He listens when I talk, and actually gets excited when I start with the classics, not sleepy. He is shy sometimes, and I wonder what about. And, you’ve got to meet Toby, he is the cutest fluff ball imaginable...”

Alex pauses a moment and Severine looks at her friend with shiny eyes. It does sound like Tom has somehow found the code to her friend’s soft word processing core.

“Be careful what you say, or people that don’t know you as well as I do might think you are falling in love with a man you only met 2 days ago.”

Alex coughs into her drink.

“I am not.” She wipes the spilled liquid with her sleeve. “And even if I may have started to… like him, after these Google pictures…”

“Well, are you concerned that you end up in the tabloids?”

“Why the hell would _I_ end up there? No, it’s not the ‘ _fame,_ ’” Alex air quotes. “I don’t really get that part anyway. Invent a vaccine that cures polio, sure, that is well deserved fame to me, but looking good in made up stories? No. I simply don’t know what to think. I feel like he made me believe he is something other than he is.”

“By cleaning up nicely in what I am sure are PR shots purely for commercial use? Just like you make believe you are a _lady_ when you get out the skirt to go speak before the University Board?”

Alex drops her head in her hands at that challenge, sighs and remains silent.

Severine gently prods, “I have been wondering about what you said before, that you feel betrayed. Did he lie to you about something? You said he looked like the homeless guy when you met him, like, he pretended to be one?”

Alex hastily corrects, “I was never serious when I mentioned _The Muffin Man_ , and you know that. I was just winding you up. Yes, Tom’s not much concerned with his wardrobe, but I actually like that about him. That he is not concerned with the impression his appearance leaves, but more with what’s behind all that. He never pretended as far as I can tell… But then I find these glossy shots. This other him.“

Severine refills the ice that melted in their glasses.

“Do you remember what Vicky used to said after Pierre?”

“That pretty things are never practical?”

Severine nods and imitates the voice of Alex’s beloved Grand-mère, with a soft French accent, “You never have a beautiful man all to yourself.”

They reminisce for a moment, each in her own way, about the wonderful white-haired Madame, her sparkly blue eyes and her no-nonsense ways.

“She was one sassy battleship, cheers to her!”, Alex joins in the toast and wipes her eyes.

Severine patiently nods and concludes, “And here we come to the truth of the matter, of what seems to bother you. That pretty things cannot be real or true. That they are unreliable. He is a dashing actor, so despite the brain, he must be a flake.”

“Maybe?” Alex rubs her eyes in frustration. “No, that isn’t fair. I told you he is genuinely smart and thoughtful. And yet, I cannot trust that, can I?”

Severine takes a long sip from her glass and then covers Alex’s hands with her own, looking at her face intently.

“It sounds to me like you are saying that if someone is ‘ _pretty’_ , they can’t have a brain _AND_ a responsible personality. Or maybe, that beauty is a bad thing, not to be trusted. That all you see in him cannot possibly exist in the same person, which after _beau Pierre_ and that scoundrel Martin, I understand but still is clearly nonsense, because _you_ are smart _and_ beautiful. And that is just the abbreviated version.” 

Severine drops this in her best no-nonsense manner.

Alex opens her mouth, then shuts it again, as she has no reply.

“And if we’re talking about men only, well, your dad was a wonderful person and quite a catch in his day but never had eyes for anyone other than your mom, you said.”

Alex is astonished how Severine always finds the one thing that nags at her. Most of the time she doesn’t even know it until Severin lovingly hits her over the head with it.

“Yes. But that was because he loved Mum. Deeply. Madly.” Still does, she adds silently.

Severine leans her elbows on the table and, resting her beautiful face in her palms, looks at Alex with big, dark, intelligent eyes and takes the next well aimed stab.

“Tom reminds you not only of Pierre, but also Martin – while at the same time you know deep down, he’s not. The conflicting images confuse you. And scare you, don’t deny it.”

Alex closes her eyes, "He's attractive and charming, and like Martin, educated, but he's not _like_ him.”

It's so much easier to make sense of it, and actually believe it, when she can say it all out loud. 

“Is he not?' Severine still pokes, tilting her head, waiting for Alex to explain.

“He's not manipulative. He's open and kind and I can't imagine him being a cheat, but he is only a man...”

“And that is what Pierre used to say,” Severine muses. “It wasn’t his fault that the girls kissed him, he was only a _man_. And well, Martin... I never believed he slipped, and his penis accidentally fell into Sandy, but who knows? Just an attractive man, trying to get by, in a world of loose women.”

Alex laughs against her will and shoves Severine.

“No! Yes! I mean no, that sounds ridiculous when you say it like that. How can you always seem to tell me exactly what I want to hear, agreeing with me and then somehow turn it all around and I am contradicting myself into sudden sense?”

Severine makes a silly _‘ta-da’_ gesture.

“Your brain is sometimes too big for you to keep track of all that’s going on in there all the time. You get lost in the dark once in a while and need someone to switch on the light for you. I am always here to help with that, but maybe it’s time to let someone else in.”

Severine can tell there is still something going on in the beautiful big brain but Alex remains quiet and doesn’t conjure up more reasons to avoid leaving the safety of her bookish world.

“It just seemed Tom was, well, everything that he was, in my head, up until the guy with the million Google entries joined the party. He was supposed to be my brain friend. In my head he was predictable and, yes, harmless.”

“Alex, my darling, the key phrase here seems to be, ‘ _in your head_ ”. Nothing has changed in the real world, certainly not for him, since yesterday when you were not confused by photoshop but had a lovely evening. Have you talked with him since _the googling_?”

Alex shakes her head.

“We texted, then you arrived.”

“What did he say?”

“He invited me to see a play.”

“Fantastic, when is it?”

“Uhm… I declined. Well, I meant to.”

“What?” Severine throws up her hands in the air, “Get your phone, right now.”

“Severine, he might consider us friends of some sort but that means totally different things in his world and mine. I don’t...”

“Get the damn phone.”

Alex has one missed call from Severine (oops) from earlier and three new messages from Tom, all adorable pictures of Toby in states of varying cuteness, implying he needs a cuddle. Or ten.

“Maybe he only wants a smart friend, maybe not. Maybe you only want a smart friend, maybe not. But if he invites you to see a play, you go watch a damn play. It’s an offer to spend time, not a marriage proposal or a plot in one of Meg’s books. Currently everything is in your head, remember? Judging from the way his _dog_ is missing you, I’d say there will be a lot more happening once it’s not _in your head_ anymore. But first, give it, him a chance. It’s about time for you to come out of hiding.”

Defiantly Alex types a message and hits send.

“There. I wrote: _Okay, come by next week and tell_ _me more about this tragedy. Also, I will provide the obviously vital belly rubs to the ones in need_.”

Severine snorts.

“What?”

“Well...”

“I sound like an idiot, right? Oh my god...”

“Yes.” Severine concedes. “A little maybe. But now the ball is in his court. I wonder…”

The phone pings in Alex’s hands and she reads with pinched eyes.

“What? What does he say?”

Alex leans back and the phone drops from her hand to the table with a slight clonk.

Severine can make out a rather long text bubble on the screen but no details.

The silence is heavy and foreboding.

“I don’t have anything to wear for an evening at the theatre.”

Severine leans forward, resting her forehead on the tabletop and starts laughing.

“Okay, you deserve a fruit tart for that. Did you buy apples when you were getting the booze?”

__

## 09:15 GMT

_Always keep in mind that things change._

_— Menander_

Running was his solution for all ailments.

Didn’t get the job – go for a run. 

Couldn’t sleep – go for a run. 

Hungry but the role demands a lean body – go for a run.

Crushing heavily, hopelessly and with the speed of light on an enigmatic scholar – go for a run. 

So here he was, out running on a Wednesday morning, and it felt good, especially with Toby barking his head off in joy, but sadly it wasn’t generating the peace he had been hoping for. His mind kept churning, the mental emptiness usually achieved by kilometer two was nowhere to be found yet.

Toby had initially been confused by the different route they took this time. Not toward the café or a certain bookstore but towards the other side of the park, over the hill. If Tom hadn’t known they had been at the vet just a few short hours ago he wouldn’t have a clue the dog had been sick - happy little bugger. As they made their way along the path, Tom pondered last night. He didn’t mean to. Emptying his mind was is why he went for a run in the first place, but it was in vain. After kilometer four he turned around, his head still full of questions.

Later, as he showered and dressed for a casual lunch with Luke, he found himself once again staring at his face in the mirror.

What did Alex see when she looked at him? He was certain she didn’t care about a face or body at all, but that the mind was the main attraction for her in a person. The paradox of Alex, it puzzled him. Did she reciprocate, at least a bit, or not? Was it all in his head? The way she had beamed at him on his couch and how she had leaned in to him in the cab?

She seemed to enjoy his company, liked his humor and his eloquence; she had smiled when he had scolded Toby and frowned when he complimented her. She listened, really listened, and didn’t let him get away weak argumentation or stereotypes, tipsy or not. 

But she had also, he was fairly sure, drawn an invisible line at being friends, some sort of intellectual colleagues - he was aware of that line and had taken pains not to step over it last night. He respected it. But why did she draw that line?

They had undeniable chemistry, and it was almost painful for him to _not_ explore the possibilities, when both obviously felt the charge in the air, the potential of more out there.

He understood the wish to protect herself. One couldn’t reach a certain age and not _not_ have been hurt, that was the price to pay for the ride – and it seemed where his instinct was to charge forward, she held back.

So, the question now was, should he push further or wait. What should he make of the kaleidoscope that had presented itself to him last night? The brazen self confidence that shone through her every gesture when she spoke about her work or when they debated the relative merits of Latin versus Greek, philosophers or poets, this inner strength she radiated, it disappeared once in a while.

There was no rhyme or reason he could see as to why, just flashes of vulnerability coming through at odd moments that he couldn’t explain but found very appealing as well as curious. 

This contradiction made him want to shelter her, even though or maybe especially because she did not need him to do that. The fact that she was independent and strong yet still had kept something soft within her, something that he sensed only a very few even got to notice, it spoke to his protective side, made him yearn to give her a safe space to share her secrets, to open up only for him to see and cherish.

And here he was once more, putting the cart before the horse.

He needed an alternative, best of all, a woman's point of view. His sisters came to mind, but he was not ready to talk about Alex with his mother, and that would be happening 15 minutes after he hung up from Emma or Sarah. News of his love life traveled all too quickly in his family.

Only one option really, and he dialed.

“Are you busy?” He asked, to Kai’s cheerful greeting.

“If I was, I wouldn’t have answered,” she responded. “I’m on the M25, and traffic is at a standstill.”

“Accident?”

“No, I’m here because it’s the perfect place for a picnic.”

Tom chuckled, mostly because of the way she laughed at her own joke, “You’re on your way to the farm?”

“Yeah. Ben’s entertaining investors this week, as you are aware, and you also know how little patience I have for schmoozing. Speaking of which, he wasn’t very impressed when you cancelled last night on such short notice and left him to fend for himself.”

Tom grinned, “He only needed me there to distract the wives, and he is absolutely capable of that sort of thing on his own. Or did I misjudge?”

Kai laughed again, “No, not about you backing out. He’s only annoyed you haven’t called him yet to tell him how it went the second time around with Alex.”

“Yeah, well, that’s actually why I’m calling you.”

“Oh, this should be good. Two date nights in a row, I’m guessing you want me to take Toby overnight later this week so you can get to third base?”

Tom could hear her glee and exhaled his frustration, “I can’t figure her out. We had an amazing evening. As long as I stick to books and languages or anything intellectual, we’re in sync. I enjoy making her laugh and our humor is very similar. She gets me.”

Kai tried to interject but he kept talking over her, “And before you ask, she loves Toby, she worries about him more than I do. Maybe more than you do. We had to take him to the vet last night.”

“Why? What happened?”

He calmed her, “He is a greedy little shit - and you know it because I am quoting you - he got into our dinner remains and inhaled half a chicken carcass. And, yes, I had put it away, but he’s sneaky like that.”

“As long as he’s alright,” she sighs. “Tell me more about this woman that’s got you all in knots. Until now she sounded just about perfect.”

“She makes me feel alive and calm at the same time. She really is unique, and we could be great friends, if not for… well, I felt a _connection_ and we _could_ be more. Much more I think.”

Kai exhaled, “Tom. I know you are an all or nothing kind of guy and I love that you wear your heart on your sleeve but isn’t this a bit early, even for you?”

“That’s a bit rich, coming from you,” Tom laughed. “But yes, that is why I wanted to talk., I know I’m not a very patient man. However, no matter how detailed we discuss fictional characters and emotions, there is a vacuum from her side when it comes to herself, everything of a personal nature is kept under a very tight lid. And it drives me insane not to know, whether it’s because I am imagining things, or she is shy or just not into me? Why is she holding me at arms-length, when everything in me tells me that she feels it too?”

Kai used the break created by Tom’s need to take a breath.

“Tom, listen to yourself for a moment. You’ve met this woman, what, twice, in two days? She sounds like a wonderful and sensible person. Maybe you’re used to your relationships starting off on a different foot but it’s actually quite reasonable for her to be a bit cautious at this point wouldn’t you say? Not everyone is a head over heels type like you. And if she’s as you describe her, I think it more than likely she would let you know if she didn't want your attention or companionship.”

She stopped to give him a chance to digest.

”My advice would be to simply give it time. I know that’s not your strong suit but give her a chance to get to know YOU better and then just see what develops from there and, who knows? Maybe you’ll get to know her and suddenly you realize you’re not interested in her after all, or, maybe she gets to know you and falls in love. For now, give her some room to breathe.“

“As always, the voice of reason.”

“Yupp, that’s me. You said Toby likes her?”

Tom smiled to himself, “Toby is smitten.”

“Toby is an excellent judge of character. How about you invite her to come to the theatre with us next week, then I can observe you together for myself and maybe tell you more?”

“You mean interrogate her?”

“I never said that. And I would never do that. I have firsthand experience of how uncomfortable it is to be grilled by _the friends_.”

Tom laughed. He could hear the traffic moving again in the background and just like the congestion on the motorway, his mood seemed more in flow from Kai’s level-headed response. Talking with her usually brought surprising results, and even though she rarely told him what he wanted to hear, she made sure he _understood_ what he needed to.

Late in the afternoon the message alert on his phone startled him out of a nap, and he sighed in relief reading Alex’s no-nonsense text of having him seen perform before. He was worried by her unusually unpunctuated reply to his invitation – it also reinforced his impression she didn’t enjoy text communication much – but he knew she had her friend visiting and was likely distracted, so he tried not to make too much of the delay in her response. But it made him laugh when it finally came. And he’d be damned if he would wait almost a whole week to see to her again. Tomorrow, he was tied up in appointments, Luke unfortunately had booked him solid through Thursday, but there was no way he would leave for the weekend without having spoken with her.


	4. Thursday, April 16

_Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet._

_— Aristotle_


	5. Friday, April 17

## 

## 10:12 GMT

_Beware the barrenness of a busy life._

_—_ Socrates

Alex’s head is still pounding but Severine’s traditional hangover drink helps cure it fast. Last night had been fun, as always. During Severine’s shopping spree throughout the whole Thursday (including hourly updates with pictures to Alex who was glad to be ‘ _stuck’_ at Babylon) Severine had left no stone unturned to find the perfect dress for Alex to wear for the _theatre slash date evening_ (they agreed to disagree on the terminology) next week. Unsurprisingly she also found just the right shoes to go with it. And with indisputable logic had insisted on Alex wearing them out that same evening, to make sure they would fit right next week. (That reminded her she needed to buy blister pads.)

Severine had enjoyed a lot of male attention while they drifted from club to pub to diner. She was never tempted by anyone but her beloved Maurice but enjoyed the flattery of handsome men very much indeed. She never forgot about Alex (who herself batted away the flatterers like annoying flies), always made sure she was still fine and taken care of when an admirer once again whisked her off to the dancefloor. That was the usual beginning of their evenings, and the night ended as usual as well - two girls sitting in a corner booth with a milkshake and laughing, giggling same as 20 years before.

Severine blessedly had not noted, or at least not commented on Alex checking her phone regularly, once or twice smiling at the silly pictures of Toby that she received. Or frowning at the interesting topics Tom brought up in his texts.

But now the visit of her sister from another mister has come to an end. 

They enjoy a tranquil brunch at the _German Gymnasium_ around the corner from St. Pancras and Severine, being a baker, is not able to resist the bread they have on offer. They appreciate each other’s quiet company after the exuberance last night and also because everything for now is said and done, their need for each other’s energy sated. For the moment. Alex is sure, once on the train, Severine will find a reason to call her and chat.

“I have no idea how I am supposed to get this huge package with me on the plane as hand luggage home from Paris.” Severine muses looking at the presents Alex has given her for her 3 daughters. “You should have posted it via courier.”

She laughs when Alex throws a piece of bread at her.

The friends make their way to the train station where they don’t even say goodbye; they just hug. They ‘ve been at this point so many times there’s no need for sadness – they know they will see each other again soon. And talk before that. And skype.

Severine briefly considers teasing Alex with a ‘ _start living and stop googling’_ farewell, but they have discussed the issue at length, and she thinks she’s gotten through to her. Having said what she had to say and providing support, it’s now up to Alex. It’s her life and ultimately, she has to live it, consequences and all. She just prays this Tom person will appreciate her friend and not break her fragile heart, cliché as it sounds.

Even though it’s her day off, Alex swings by Babylon on her way home. She left her favorite reading glasses yesterday - more distracted by Severine’s visit than she thought maybe - and since the rest of her day is supposed to involve a lot of reading, possibly in the bathtub, she has to make the slight detour. And in truth, she doesn’t mind it that much. She hasn’t had a chance for face to face time with Aly in weeks, with him being mostly at _Baby One_ (yes, that is what she is calling his first born bookstore in her head, nothing he can do about it, is there?) or traveling Europe in search of rarities. And she just so loves to rile him up.

“Honey, I’m home!”

She hadn’t noticed there is a customer in the store, not that that would have deterred her, and stops short when she realizes Alistair is in an entranced conversation with Tom. Toby is there as well, on a very short leash, and dances excitedly at the sound of her voice.

“Ms. Walker-Wright, how many times have I told you that this is no way of entering our stores!”

“As many times as you’ve yelled _Honey, I’m leaving’_?”

“Probably.” Alistair admits with a rueful smile, “Still, I was just telling this gentleman here what a serious and professional business we are.”

Alistair is about one head smaller than Alex, which puts him about two heads below Tom, whose eyes sparkle when he looks her over. It feels...well it should feel like _nothing_ , but it does. Feel like… _something_. She takes her eyes off the customer and matter of factly states to her matter of fact boss.

“Stop wasting your breath, he already owns all the books you might want to recommend to him.”

Tom laughs and acknowledges that with a shoulder shrug.

“How do you know? Did you sell them to him?”

Alex challenges, “What if I did?”

“Then I’d like to see the receipts, thank you very much.”

Tom can see that the two of them are not serious about the argument but interferes anyway.

“So, Alistair has been explaining the interesting story behind the store name. Or the store names, I should say, if you count One and Two as last names for Babylon.”

“Did he tell you that I was against it?”

“Because you didn’t want to give anyone the opportunity of calling you ‘ _Whore of Babylon’_? Yeah, he did.”

Alistair stands up very tall between them and is oblivious to some subtext being exchanged, literally over his head.

“If anyone would call her anything, it would be the ‘ _Hermit of Babylon’_ , but in any case, I consider Babylon the symbol of a haven for science and knowledge, and as explained in Genesis, it’s why the world's peoples speak different languages.”

“More precisely that would relate to the Tower of Babylon,” injects Tom, who can’t resist a chance to look good in front of Alex.

Alistair, satisfied to have found an apparent comrade-in-arms against Alex’s obvious bias, adds: “Yes, which was built by a united humanity in an attempt to reach the heavens.”

“And see how far it got them.”, is Alex’s grumbled comment as she kneels down to give Toby the attention he deserves.

Alistair throws his hands in the air but more out of love than desperation. Alex is his gem, the unexpected smart cherry on top of his dream of owning antique bookstores, and he would have changed the name of the store if she would have refused otherwise to come work for him. Luckily, she didn’t know that.

Alex gets up and goes searching for her glasses, Toby is close on her heels like a little moon caught in her orbit, dragging Tom along with him.

“I had assumed you’d spend yesterday as a day off with your French friend?”

“No, I had to work, but to be honest it was the best solution for all involved. Severine is a merciless retail huntress and she was out for blood. I was very happy to be out of the way. I just dropped her at the train station, and am having my day off, starting exactly, now. Ha!”

Alex triumphantly holds up the glasses that had fallen behind the keyboard after the last time she’d googled the man in front of her. Again.

“Does that mean you’re free to join Toby and me for a walk? Or, if you’re hungry - I just had breakfast next door but I can do it again.” Tom hastily adds,” I don’t mean to assume you have no plans, but Toby was very sad to not have seen you for what in his young little mind must seem like an eternity.”

Alex rolls her eyes.

“It’s been two days, but I admit, I missed him too. Any time I can spend with Toby is a treat. “

She pauses and considering looks into his shaggy face with the tousled hair and excited bright eyes.

“I suppose you’re all right too. And much better at conversation than Toby.”

Since Alex has just eaten as well, she suggests they get tea for the road and supplies a couple of travel mugs from under the sink in the back of the shop. A quick stop at the café and they’re on their way, drifting towards the park, letting Toby decide their route, while sniffing every corner. ‘ _Reading the newspaper_ ‘, Tom calls it.

“You said you’d be going to see your family over the weekend?”

Tom nods, “Yes, I’m heading up later on, but I wanted to give Toby some time to stretch his legs before the drive.”

“I thought it was to give him the chance to see me,” Alex teases.

“Both. We were lucky we caught you on your day off. Speaking of which, it’s too bad you had to work while your friend was here and you’re only off now when she’s leaving.”

“No, not really, to be honest. As I said, Severine wanted to do retail therapy and we still got to see a lot of each other, since she stayed at my place and we did go out dancing last night. Also, it’s not like we only see each other once a year, our friendship is of that kind where you are comfortable enough to trust the other person doesn’t expect any special treatment or rearrangement of schedules. She truly is family and one hour with her is worth more than a week with others, to me.”

They stop their stroll for a moment for Toby, who feels the need to introduce himself to two passing greyhounds, who unfortunately have no interest in him, and he watches them continue on their dignified way, exhaling a disappointed sigh that makes both Tom and Alex laugh. Companionably, they continue their walk in silence for a while, and Tom raises concerned eyes towards the dark cloudy sky. For now, however, the air is dry.

“How long have you known Severine?”

“It seems like my whole life. Well, my second life.” Alex muses. “When I was 14… I moved to France, with my grandparents. That’s where I met her. Or she kind of met me, defending me in the best Queen’s English from a situation with some French _méchantes filles_. Her father was a Brit who fell for a dark-skinned French beauty and whisked her away to London, but when he died in an accident, she had to return to her family with her light-skinned daughter. So, Severine knew all about being a stranger in a strange land and we connected, over that and… for other reasons.”

Tom is listening intent on understanding every facet of the complex creation that is Alex and senses, this is a crucial moment in that process. He wants to rush forward, but is aware she seems in a strange mood, more open somehow, less guarded, and maybe because if that, more fragile. He chooses his next words carefully.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what prompted the move? And why with your grandparents?”

Alex hesitates. Tom can see the internal debate on her face.

“Their daughter-in-law died suddenly, and their son couldn't cope, neither with the loss of his beloved wife nor with his traumatized daughter.”

Appalled, Tom stops and takes Alex by the arm with his free hand to stop her as well. She doesn’t look at him but straight ahead, holding on to Toby’s leash and her by now empty cup.

“I am so sorry.”

“Yes. Me too.”

They are silent for a while, both in their own heads when slowly a light rain begins to fall. Alex keeps walking, so Tom does too, unquestioningly. Alex knows he will not intrude, and if she doesn’t take the next step, they will remain as they are, in the Neverland of In-Between. It’s up to her to move them forward by leaving her past behind.

“I used to write letters to my Mum from France, pretending that I was only away on a long vacation, and I would see her again soon. I'd tell her all about the fabulous new friend I made and hanging out at the beach, and the boy that...” Alex’s voice breaks but Tom can’t tell from the side whether the streaks on her face are tears or just the rain. Because she doesn’t acknowledge the wetness, neither does he. 

Alex picks up where she left off, “I told her all about the boy that broke my heart and that Severine baked me tarts every day to heal it. Mum had taught literature and always encouraged me to write, to put my feelings down on paper so I sent her the poems I wrote about him, too.” Alex’s voice catches, but she doesn’t stop, “I also wrote to my dad and did my best to get his attention by translating my letters to him into old Greek.”

“How on earth did you learn Greek so young? Not in France I take it?” Tom tries to keep his emotions out of his voice, he wonders why she would have to work for her father's attention with such desperate measures but refrains from asking just yet.

“They both wanted me to be multilingual. I think Mum probably meant French or Italian, but Dad read me Aeschylus and Plato and Aesop as bedtime stories. He taught me because, right after mum his next love was the ancient languages. That is how also they picked my name.”

“Alex stands for Alexandra, I’d have thought?”

“Almost. Alexandra was one of the epithets given to the Greek goddess Hera and is usually taken to mean ‘ _one who comes to save warriors_ ’". Dad loved Greek gods but mum was not as happy with it and adjusted it to a connotation less … bellicose. So I became Alexandria.”

“Oh, like the city founded by Alexander the Great, home to one of the seven world wonders, the Lighthouse Pharos, as well as the Great Library?”

Alex smiles at his recitation of what must have been part of some lesson engrained in him a long time ago.

“Exactly. The Great Library of Alexandria was one of the largest and most significant of the ancient world and Alexandria came to be regarded as the capital of knowledge and learning. My fathers is… was an esteemed professor of ancient languages at Oxford so that meaning worked for him as well.”

“If he taught at Oxford why not study there? Or was it, to not be known as teachers pet?”

“Oxford was where we lived when Mum died of heart failure at the age of forty.”

Alex wipes her face but so does Tom, the rain getting stronger. They are on the way home, his home anyway. She gives him a watery smile.

“Dad’s reputation is how I ended up meeting Alistair. He meant to contact my father but found me. I followed my Dad’s footsteps and made a career, as you know, through the classics. “

“Alistair wanted your dad to invest in his bookstore, or buy some books for him, from him…?”

“No, Aly doesn’t need money, really. He may be only the third son of a poor Lord but during university, made a fortune playing online poker, believe it or not. He made his obsession with old books his profession and opened first one, and now the second store. He has some kind of Midas touch. In a good way though. One shouldn’t think that you can make money with old books, but he somehow does. For example, with special services from experts like either my father or me, as I told you we appraise books, give opinions, things like that. He’s an excellent boss and I love the unique arrangement we have. He hired me as a freelancer in the beginning, so I had time for Arthur, but now I mind the store, doubling as a shopkeeper while still having the freedom to indulge my true joy: research.”

The skies open up right at that moment and they start to sprint for shelter. Alex tries to change direction., “We’re close to Babylon; I’ll just run back and dry off there.”

Tom shakes his wet head, “Please, my home is just as close, and I have a hot shower, dry towels and some of my sister’s clothes will surely fit you. “

Water pours down the back of Alex’s neck, helping her make up her mind and the three of them race down the street. Poor Toby looks like a drowned rat, and so do they, when they rush through the door. Alex almost falls over a large duffel bag parked in the hallway.

“Oh damn, sorry, I forgot I left that there. I meant to put it in the car, but I got distracted by Toby wanting his walk.”

He shoves the heavy object to the side while trying to hold on to Toby who seems to think a good roll on the living room carpet would be a nice way to dry off.

“No, you devil, no. Sit.” Tom takes a ratty looking towel from a hook by the door and gestures towards the guest bathroom.

“Please just hop in the shower. Fresh towels under the sink, _mi casa es su casa_ , and all that. I’ll take care of this soggy little bugger and put a kettle on.“

Alex is rather cold and sympathizes with Toby but unlike him simply does as she’s told.

When she steps from the shower after a heavenly eternity, the bathroom is filled with steam. She is bundled up in a huge towel and feels much better after the hot water, and cleaning her face, but what now? Having heard the faucet shut off, Tom knocks.

“I've put some of my sister’s clothes in front of the door. Hopefully there’s something that’ll work for you.”

She opens the door carefully, but he is already gone. Indeed, a loose, long-sleeved shirt does fit okay, and the jeans are a bit tight but will do for now.

Alex can hear Tom in the kitchen and joins him. Toby is somewhat dry and dead to the world snoring in his royal blue dog bed as she points at him.

“I think you achieved your objective, to tire him out for the drive.”

Tom finishes preparing two tea mugs of strong, milky tea and joins her at the table. He smells like he had a shower as well, and he wears a very nice grey jumper with fresh dark jeans, not a tear or hole in sight. The top could be cashmere, it looks very soft and warm. So does he.

“Yes, that was the goal. To tire Toby out. Let me put your things in the dryer.”

Alex holds her trousers, shirt, and smaller wet items to her chest.

“Just tell me where it is?”

She ignores his amused smile and follows the directions to the appliance, 30 minutes should do.

Returning to the living room she can hear soft music in the background, it sounds dramatic but pleasingly so.

“What’s that playing?” 

“The score to a movie called _Conquest of Paradise_.” 

“It’s nice. I rarely go to the cinema and I don’t own a TV. Does it bother you that I’m clueless to your… prominence?” 

She is honestly curious.

Tom chuckles, “No, not at all. Believe it or not, I like it…I’m enjoying it. All too often, when I meet new people, the conversations center around my job, the perks, that kind of stuff. I like that I can talk with you about anything but that.”

Alex sips her sweet tea and considers.

“My circle, which admittedly is not as exciting as yours must be, might be also rarified. There are so few of us who specialize successfully, that one might consider me a celebrity of sorts. Being the daughter of a world-renowned scholar, having extensively researched and published myself…” She laughs, “though to most people, it probably wouldn’t compare. But I like that you share my passion about my field of interest and at the same time it’s refreshing to talk about other things, do other things. Maybe even learn new things.” She looks over to the snoring Toby.

Both start to say something at the same time, Alex gestures for Tom to go ahead.

Tom pauses for a moment but Alex insists. She isn’t sure if she should really voice what’s in her head, the mood that has been created in the last hour and now by the homely setting, almost an intimacy, is unfamiliar to her, making her feel soft and vulnerable.

“Well, I was still wondering about the things you told me while we were walking.”

Tom waits, watches to see if she understands that he is not trying to pry, that it’s up to her whether to continue or stop.

“Yes?”

“After the loss of your mother, how long did you stay in France?”

“A little over a year. Grand-mère was 80 already at the time and her health was deteriorating and the doctors wanted her back at her home in London. She said, _‘there is only so much that France can heal, some things simply need time and the love of a father’.’_ And she was right. Even though I was terribly sad to leave Severine, I missed my dad and home, so we returned.”

Tom would like to keep asking, to dig deeper, remembers that he had interrupted her.

“What did you want to say before?”

Alex is debating what to do but finally gives in to the urge to be candid with him. Also, she has the weird feeling Severine is standing behind her, nudging her on, giving her a thumbs up.

“I just thought. Well. We had mentioned our… occupation and the things that might come with it. I meant to add that I have to admit, it threw me a bit when I looked you up online. Obviously, there’s the fact of your success, your,” Alex can’t think of a better phrase and makes a face, settling for “ _fame_. But what really surprised me, was how different you do look in person to me from some of those pictures. I know actors, the good ones anyways, are like chameleons, but honestly, even if I had seen you in a movie before you walked into the shop, I’m not sure I’d have recognized you.”

Tom snorts and shrugs his shoulders, “The short version is, I’m a lazy bastard. Contact lenses dry my eyes, shaving is a hassle and to be honest it irritates my skin, so I only do it if I really have to. Make up obviously helps… does the hair bother you?” He jokingly strokes an imaginary Gandalf beard. “I’ll take it off immediately, just say the word!”

Alex laughs, “No, I quite like it, actually.”

She doesn’t add that it helps her to not get too distracted by his intelligent eyes, but it’s a close thing.

“Is that right?” Tom asks, as if hearing her thoughts and although she is aware that she might be crossing the line from innocent teasing, she feels compelled to speak about what's been on her mind since Wednesday, when the search engine had corrected her spelling of his last name and offered _‘Results for Tom Hiddleston’_.

“You must have thought me naïve, for not knowing who you are. And I felt naïve, if not embarrassed later because I did what a person that loves reading as much as I do, should know better than to do – I judged the book by its cover.“

“You took one look at my hairy self and drew the conclusion I was a tortured, suffering artist? A poor scholar?” Tom raises his eyebrows jokingly.

“No. I mean, maybe, yes, a little. And just for the record I was fine, with you being any of these things. But I’m referring to later on, the moment I saw pictures of your... actor persona, the man in a £4000 suit. The award winner. Posing.” She presses her lips together for a moment. “I judged. And assumed.”

She tries to say it without bias, even smiling, and Tom interjects that not all the suits are _that_ expensive and posing in them is, well, required, but she can see he understands that she is serious. She continues with a small voice and Tom has to lean in to hear her properly.

“You are obviously an attractive man, inside and out, but these pictures…Beauty, or what is perceived as beauty, can be a distraction. It can be used as a cloak to hide behind and I admit, I was once deceived by it. And hurt. I take responsibility for my actions then; I _wanted_ to believe that inner ugliness could not be hidden under outer elegance, that outer beauty must be a reflection of what is inside.”

Alex stares into her cup, apprehensive to look up at a silent Tom. She finishes her tea and her line of thought, “However, I learned, that it’s mostly a mask, a superficial _disguise_ to hide something, and to tell you the truth, I thought, when I looked you up and found this other facet of you…that I had discovered yours.”

Tom remains still and when she finally gazes up at him, he gives her a tiny wistful smile.

“I’m afraid you have, Alex. I am an actor and I have perfected so many disguises that I sometimes don’t know any more who the real me is. People do judge books by their covers, and people in turn by their looks. I would be lying if I didn’t admit to doing the same at times. I too have my experiences with confusing perception versus reality. Sometimes, Alex, I even encourage it, preferring to wear a mask – however, when I do, it’s not to hide what’s inside, but rather, to protect it.“

He takes a deep breath, “Your, as you call it, naivety is actually a superpower. It made you immune to my deception, and I have to say I am grateful for the moment when you looked up at me with unclouded eyes and ordered me to leave my damn cup at the shelf. You gave me the chance to be myself, and you have no idea what a joy that is. As is finding out,” he smiles, “I like who I am when I’m with you.”

They look at each other until his phone rings, breaking the spell Alex feels she has been under. Tom seems to understand that she welcomes the interruption, a moment to gather her thoughts and he picks up, putting the caller on speaker while he runs upstairs, anticipating the reason his Mum is phoning. She reminds him to bring the sweater he wanted repaired. Or even better, Alex hears her suggest, he should burn it instead and buy a new one. The intermission provided, brings her back to herself, from watching the situation in slow motion to her mind spinning in double speed, replaying the conversation, and wondering if he was really saying what it sounded like to her. For a second there, she had been sure he wasn’t talking about just friendship and despite her lack of recent experience, she doesn’t think she’d imagined the _tension_ between them. Alex sits bolt upright in her chair. 

The dryer hasn’t buzzed but she goes to check on it anyway, and though her clothes retain a slight dampness, they’re good enough to be worn. 

“Are these things really dry?” Tom questions when he is back down and sees her dressed in her own clothes again.

“Yes, all good. I'm sure you need to finish packing and get going so I won’t keep you any longer.” Alex feels dizzy as she bends down to pull her damp sneakers on, “Thank you for the tea and the warming up.”

Tom shakes his head, “It was nothing. And yes, I need to leave, but let me drop you off at home on the way?”

Alex flat out refuses.

“I’m sure my place is in no way on your way. It makes no sense to take a detour because of me, especially in Friday afternoon London traffic. I’ll take the tube.”

Tom carefully steps closer to her, reaches out and places his warm hands on her shoulders, slowing her racing mind to almost a stop, bending his knees a bit to make sure they look eye to eye.

“Okay, here’s the thing. We haven’t known each other for that long, but I already consider us much more than acquaintances. Do you think we are, or at least could be, friends?”

“Of course. I guess so. Yes.” She manages to keep her voice steady.

“Well, here’s the thing about my friends. I value them and I will always go out of my way for them. They are worth it. They deserve it.” He holds her gaze, “Let me drive you home, please?”

Alex sits in the big warm car that looks brand new, but also lived in, and smells faintly of leather. She watches the water trails on the windshield as traffic flows and streets fly by. The radio plays quietly, Tom drives confidently and Toby snores in the back. It all feels so comfortable that she could easily fall asleep herself. If it weren’t for her once again racing thoughts.

They finally pull into her street and she unbuckles slowly, searching for something to say that can explain her inner turmoil, her silence, to herself or to Tom. She settles for a simple thank you and doesn’t realize Tom is reaching for her as she exits the vehicle, cars behind them honking as they block one of the lanes.

When Alex closes the car door, she pauses and holds Tom’s gaze through the rain spattered window. She answers his bright smile with a tentative one. The unreal feeling continues as she climbs the steps and makes herself comfortable, sits on her bed and stares at her hands. 

She pulls out her phone and hits the speed dial of a French number but hangs up before it can connect. The room is almost dark by now so Alex switches on the bedside lamp, leans back and sinks into the soft cushions.

Closing her eyes, she breathes deeply and tries emptying her mind, but the thoughts keep spinning. Abruptly she knows how to stop the whirling, gets up, opening the closet and rummaging until she pulls out the box with her stationary, and bundles of letters.

The beautiful fountain pen is dried out from disuse but is easily made functional again, the task helping to slow and focus her thoughts. The smell and feel of ink on thick, creamy handmade paper transports her back in time as she starts to write.

_Mum,_

_I told him about you. I think he heard much more than just my words. He was kind and I think he wants to be more than friends. And I think I do, too._

_But before, I need to tell him, I know, I should be honest with him. Also, he didn’t do anything to deserve my doubt. And still._

_And still._

_I wish you could be here; I wish I could talk to you and you could answer. Remember what you told me when you kissed me good night?_

_So many times, you said to trust my feelings, and I'm trying, but I’ve been wrong before and I got hurt. I don’t want to be burned again, especially not by Tom._

_I want to be what he wants, but I don’t know how to, and I’m too frightened to ask. I’m afraid of getting it wrong and loosing what we have by pretending to be something I’m not._

_I don’t know what to do._

_Mum, tell me what to do?_

Alex feels drained. But also calmer. She puts the pen away and seals the letter, placing it on the windowsill. She crawls into bed, scolds herself for not brushing her teeth but falls asleep exhausted a moment later. There are no dreams that night.

## 19:04 GMT

_He, who is not contented with what he has, would not be contented with what he would like to have._

_—_ Socrates

The kitchen smelled heavenly, and Tom, as always, was transported back in time as his mother called out for him to take his shoes off when he arrived. He guiltily retraced his steps, however Toby had no such shame and the moment Tom’s head was turned, dashed off in search of new toys which surely must be hidden somewhere in the house.

His mum always cooked up a storm, baking and preparing Sunday roast lunch and welcoming any and all friends or partners of her own three offspring. Having missed the last get together, Tom felt a glow of happiness but also a pang of sentiment. When he wasn’t traveling, he saw his parents as often as he could, but the regular gatherings at Mum’s meant that he saw her more often than his father. The divorce of his parents was no more than a very distant memory from his teenage years and he’d long since stopped thinking of them as a unit. They were separate entities, individuals sharing the orbit around their children but no more. He’d been always found it easier to be close to his Mum and his sisters, and he supposed it was his nature to be drawn more to the female softness. He made a point out of staying in contact with his Dad. They spoke regularly but their visits were less frequent and although his father always lauded his successes, he couldn’t help but feel that by going into acting, he’d let his father down somehow.

A shriek interrupted his thoughts. It sounded like Toby had found something in one of his sister’s bags. He grinned for a moment as  Toby shoot past him, trailing something pink and lacy, with Emma in hot pursuit,  but schooled his features to reflect regret or at least sincere remorse, as he went after of the little devil as well. 

Later, as ever, the talk turned to Tom’s love life which was a never-ending source of fascination and interference for his sisters.

“Are you telling me there are no women that would hold your interest in L.A.?!?” Emma sounded scandalized, and  her voice was  still rough around the edges even though she had mostly recovered from her bout with  bronchitis.

“No, what I am telling you is that no matter which side of the pond, it’s none of your bloody business.”

His mother cut off the argument, scolding them, never one to prefer one child over the other and, out of habit, including her second daughter as well.

“Stop it and eat your pudding. Or no TV before bed for the three of you.”

One marathon game of Monopoly later, Tom went to bed in his childhood room and typed out a message.

_‘Just wanted to let you know I arrived and while unpacking the car found your hair clip, I hope you won’t be needing it over the weekend?’_

No reply.

Wide awake, the jet lag still playing havoc with his sleeping patterns, he went through his bookcase and to his delight found some old texts from his Cambridge days. He wondered what Alex would think of them and started reading.

He had finally fallen asleep with daylight almost dawning and was woken rather rudely on Saturday by Toby raising hell, and for some reason, his sisters laughing like maniacs.

Since they all knew he was struggling with getting back into a regular routine after being overseas, they had agreed on a late brunch that provided much more food than even the four of them could eat at one sitting and would be used for dinner later as well. He was sure to gain 3 pounds this weekend alone and cursed himself for not having brought his running shoes. To escape the pandemonium of the Three Grey Sisters, as he called females of the family happily to their faces, he went to walk Toby, hoping for a few minutes of privacy to try and call Alex. He had a worrying feeling in his gut that the next couple of days might be important for her in deciding how their relationship would continue. Whether the big step yesterday towards trust and open communication would lead to further things or like a hermit crab she would withdraw.

Like all mothers, Diana knew when her son was hiding something, and she also knew he would not talk about it with his sisters around. When her daughters were bored out of their pretty heads and decided to go into town to see a movie, she seized the opportunity to corner her son. Diana sat down quietly next to Tom in the winter garden, where he had settled after his walk with Toby and was regularly checking his phone, reading some of his old schoolbooks… good grief, was that Greek?

She pretended to knit on yet another item to gift to Toby and bid her time, quietly keeping her son company. When he put the book away with a sigh, she happily agreed to also needing a break and they went in the kitchen for tea.

“Mum, I know you know I have something on my mind. But I don’t think I want to talk about… it, just yet.” He took his cup and went back to the seat he’d just vacated. Diana followed with her tea.

“Thomas, you know I would never make you share your worries when you don’t feel like I could be of any help.”

What Tom knew, was that as a grown man he should be immune to emotional blackmail, and especially being called by his given name, he had 39 years of practice, for god’s sake.

“Mum, really, it’s not that I don’t think you...” One look at her devastated face and he conceded.

“...and then we went for a walk and I felt like I was finally getting somewhere. She told me about losing her mother when she was only 14...” here, he was interrupted by his Mum’s groan of sympathy, “and she came back to mine to warm up after we got rained on. I tried to let her know how I feel, that I see us as more than just friends… but since dropping her at home on my way down here yesterday, I haven’t heard from her.”

Diana’s voice was soft with sympathy, “It sounds like maybe she said more than she meant to and now she’s backing off. Give her a bit of room to consider. Lord, as if that weren’t already the hardest time of anyone’s life, hormones and trying to figure out who you are and then your mother dying on top of it? I could understand why it’s not something she speaks of easily, but you know, if she told you about it, then clearly, she trusts you.”

He thought for a minute and said, “I think you’re right, but what I can’t get a handle on is the distance I feel still between us. Like she invites me in only to stop me at the last moment.”

”You have always been the most emotionally sensitive, the most empathetic of my children and I admire that you’ve not lost that. I’ve often thought that when the right woman came along, the one that flipped all the switches for you, you’d sweep her right off her feet. But Tom…for some people, your level of devotion and intensity might be difficult to accept on face value, especially if they’re carrying some hurt from the past.” Diana smiled and rubbed her son’s back, ““It seems to me that if she’s willing to open up to you about something so personal, then she wants you to know who she is, and how she got that way. Take her trust in you on faith and build on it. I know you’re excited and that she’s lit a spark in you but give her some space to catch her breath.” 

“You sound just like Kai.” Tom mumbled to himself, then louder, “So I should back off?” 

She shrugged with one shoulder, “I’m not saying you should go so far in the other direction that she ends up where you are, wondering what you want from her. You are not a teenager anymore. If you’re interested, say so. Tell her how you feel. Tell her you think she’s clever and you like spending time with her. Most importantly, let her see your vulnerability so she doesn’t feel like she’s the only one who’s opening up. And make sure you give her space to mull it over. She sounds a thinker, your pretty book worm.” 

His mother smiled at him reassuringly and Tom couldn’t help but smile back at her. They heard his sisters come home, discussing something loudly. Not surprisingly it seemed they had been to the pub for some snooker, and not the movies, after all. 

Diana hugged her son as he went upstairs, tired after the short night. Tomorrow was a new day and Tom considered driving home early. Maybe if he dropped by her house or send her yet another text…but he realized with sudden clarity that if Alex wanted to contact him, she would, and no amount of messages were going to convince her at this point. She either took the next step, or not. Right now, unfortunately, it wasn’t up to him. Lying in the dark, he whispered to himself but thinking of her, almost like a prayer. ' _Innocent sleep. Sleep that soothes away all our worries. Sleep that puts each day to rest. Sleep that relieves the weary labourer and heals hurt minds. Sleep, the main course in life's feast, and the most nourishing.'_


	6. Saturday, April 18

## 

## 07:00 GMT

 _The only true wisdom_ _is in knowing you know nothing._

 _—_ Socrates

Alex wakes slowly with the rising of the daylight, for a tiny moment the cotton candy cloud feeling around her makes her sigh until she is fully awake. She switches off Grand-mére’s old-fashioned alarm clock when it lets her know it’s time to get up. The rain has continued to fall through the night, and she dresses in layers, anticipating the climate control in the store which always feels a bit too low for her but is obviously perfect for the books.

The time spent with Tom yesterday had been strangely intense. True, she doesn’t talk about personal things much. Most people who know her family name and the reputation that goes with it, are also aware of her mother’s early death. It's been 20 years and she has long come to terms with the loss. Why would she be upset when telling him? She hasn’t been dwelling on her family, their time as a trinity, in a long time. It’s the past, long gone and does not influence her present, does it?

Following Severine’s encouragement, she had taken the risk and opened up to Tom further than she thought wise, and for some reason she had believed this would bring the solution. That she would somehow suddenly in her head know the path and what to do. And yes, her head is somewhat clearer, also after writing the letter to her mum, the aching however that now envelopes her comes from a different place altogether, deep in her chest, and she cannot shake it.

She doesn’t regret the glimpse she gave Tom into her past. But the tiny crack feels like it wants to become a huge opening to invite disappointment and hurt. For both of them.

Alex makes her way through the London commute, much more manageable on a Saturday without all the suits blocking the seats, unlocks the back door to Babylon and inhales the familiar smell as she goes through the routine of switching on lights, starting the computer, checking phone and e-mail for customer requests. She puts on her store shoes, finishes drinking her tea in the tiny kitchen and unlocks the front door, turning the old-fashioned sign to welcome the clientele.

The morning is busier than usual but after lunch time it gets quiet. Alex habitually takes her muted phone from her bag to charge and call the nursing home for the daily update, but finds her display uncommonly crowded with notifications. Five texts, a voice message from Severine which she will listen to later, and eight missed calls from Arthur, almost two hours ago. Not good. She immediately dials his number.

Nurse Beata pics up and immediately reassures her that all is well.

“It’s been one of those days. Dr. Wright isn’t like most patients, and you know that dementia is not predictable or the same in any two people. He woke this morning confused - more confused - and after a nap was very agitated. We looked at pictures and talked about Mrs. Walker-Wright. He kept asking to speak with you, saying he had to tell you something and then he must have gotten hold of the phone, hence the calls.”

“I am glad to hear he calmed down; you are a true angel, Beata. I still plan to spend the day with him tomorrow, but if I close the store early, I can come by around six just to check on him, will that be okay?”

“Yes, he will be so pleased.”

Next, she calls Alistair, who urges her to close the store right away.

“Business after two is never that big on Saturdays anyway.”

“That’s not true and you know it, but I appreciate you offering. I will close at five, if that’s okay though… And thanks.”

She sits down heavily behind the counter and feels the flutter of her heart and a slight shakiness caused by her rapid breathing. The inflow of students searching for a very specific edition helps her focus, and the lady with the triple mocha, dutifully placed on the shelf as always when she comes in at least twice a week, even coaxes out a small smile.

But then she is alone again in the store, and there are still two more hours until she can close up. She remembers the voicemail from Severine, and exhales relived when she hears the carefree voice.

“Just wanted to see how you are doing, any developments? Maurice takes me to this fabulous restaurant tonight, and who knows what we will be up to after that, but give me a call anytime if you want to talk, okay?”

The phone still shows unread WhatsApp messages from Tom as well, seven now in total. She touches the green icon with bated breath.

The first one is from last night, letting her know he arrived and that she lost her hair clip in the car. In the next one, from sometime in the middle of the night, he is asking her whether she preferred Herodotus or Thucydides, without giving any further context. In the morning he forwarded two adorable pictures of Toby wearing a hand knitted blue woolen cap and an expression on his puppy face that left no doubt as to his opinion of said item.

The fifth bubble is actually a voice message, and she is hesitant to listen to it…she generally prefers voice over text in a digital medium anytime, however hearing his voice, recorded just for her, instead of typing… it seems very intimate for some reason. She hits play and nothing happens. After regulating the volume, she hears his warm voice, and judging from the background noise he must have been outside, maybe taking a walk with Toby?

“ _Hi, it’s me. I was wondering how your day is going, is Babylon busy? I've just had lunch with my family and need to walk it off. And Toby needs to show the world the new leash my Mum got him, matching the handmade beanie she made him wear.”_

Tom chuckles and Alex thinks can also make out Toby in the background.

 _“I hope you enjoyed the pictures of Mr. Fashion; they will be the only proof the bloody hat ever existed because Toby was very ungrateful and destroyed it. He is lucky he’s such a good-looking devil and Mum loves him, or she will again, in a while anyway._ ”

There is a pause.

_“So, I just wanted to say hi. And, that I enjoyed our talk yesterday. I hope we find time to do that again soon?”_

There is a pause and she can hear the wind picking up.

 _“Okay, well, I guess I need to make sure Toby isn’t running off with Mrs. Colverton and her pugs… Let me know how you are and have a lovely afternoon_.”

Alex looks again at the adorable pictures and smiles faintly.

Tom’s last two text messages concern opinions on breakfast food for dinner plus what she will be eating this evening, and whether she is all right. As if he would once again sense she is not. Besides the scare she just had with Arthur, she is still not one bit clearer on what yesterday meant. Means. What is she supposed to do, to answer him now?

That she has no apparent reason to feel anxious, and still does? That the things she yearns for do not exist in the world outside of books, and maybe letters? That she’d just love to be straight forward, but her past experiences are holding her back? That she’s a coward?

The sound of the doorbell takes her out of her thoughts, and she is busy enough until five to feel rather guilty to be locking the door in front of a potential customer.

She rushes through the closing routine and to the tube next, the trip up north taking almost an hour. Arthur’s connections had helped to get him into a nursing home that is a bit more luxurious in the sense that the staff is not so overworked they need to hurry through all routine but have time for the patients, and what’s most important to get to know and care for them. Alex comes every Sunday to spend the day, but otherwise she needs to rely on the nurses and is glad that she found them supportive and responsive in any situation. Grand-mére Vicky’s inheritance helps to ensure she can afford to keep Arthur there, however the job at Babylon ensures she herself has a roof over her head as well.

When Alex walks into the main hall and shakes the umbrella, she can see the residents having dinner, but Arthur is not among them. Beata notices and comes over to greet her.

“Oh dear, the excitement of the day has taken its toll I’m afraid and your father is in bed already. He wasn’t hungry, you know him, but I put something aside in case he needs it later. When I checked fifteen minutes ago, he was fast asleep. I knew you would prefer for him to rest rather than me keeping him awake… was that all right?”

Alex nods her head and exhales.

“Yes, it’s okay, of course, whenever he can rest, he should. Let's go upstairs and take a look, in case he's woken up in the meantime. Otherwise I just want to leave the strawberries I got on the way for him. They’re not in season, so probably not really sweet, but he is always so happy when I bring some.”

They chat quietly as they peek through the door, and see Arthur is indeed in deep slumber. His nightlight gives the room a warm glow. Alex places the little basket with the fruit on the small table at the window and brushes her fingertip slightly over her father’s arm as she passes his bed.

“Night, Arthur, see you tomorrow.”, she whispers as they close the door again and leave.


	7. Sunday, April 19

## 

## 11:15 GMT

_The soul becomes dyed with the color of its thoughts._

_—_ Heraclius

“Oh, for a moment I thought you were my wife. I’m sorry. You look just like her, but her hair is darker and longer.”

“Arthur, it’s me.”

“I’m sorry, should I know you?”

They have this conversation every week and it’s become routine; it doesn’t bother Alex anymore.

“I’m your daughter. Alex.”

“That is a beautiful name. Do you know that it’s Greek? My daughter, her name is Alexandria, not Alexandra mind you, I’m looking for her. I need to tell her something important.”

As usual she tries a different approach at that point.

“I see. Would you mind if I sit here with you, we could wait together?”

“Yes, why not, but I need to pay attention, it’s important. My wife really needs me to tell our daughter something.”

That is new. Usually he just talks about her reminding him of his wife, about Susanne being beautiful and the love of his life; how they met, how they wrote letters as courtship, how he had never eyes for any other after she sold him that salve for his sunburn in 1981 in her uncle's pharmacy in Brighton.

“Arthur, I am your daughter. I’m here. You can tell me right now.” She knows it won’t help.

“No, you are not, why would you say that? You are much too old, excuse me for stating that so bluntly. She is a student at Cambridge. She is coming back from university. She should be here any minute.”

“I understand. I'm sorry.” She smiles reassuringly as he starts to get restless. After a few minutes she tries again.

“But it’s okay if I sit here with you? Maybe you want to tell me a bit about her while we wait? What is she like? So I recognize her, I can help you looking for her?”

Arthur regards her with a very clear but empty stare, nods and remains silent for the moment. The breeze coming through the open window moves the curtains, so far there is no rain today. It’s mild.

“My daughter looks just like my wife,” he states quietly, “but Susanne, my wife, always used to say she can see me in our daughter’s eyes. My curiosity and my thirst for knowledge. Already as a child Alexandria didn’t like not knowing. She had a hard time admitting that she didn’t have the right answer or didn’t understand something. She learned and worked really hard in order to always have the right answers. “

Arthur sighs.

“Susanne was worried that in an academic environment this would fine but that it wouldn’t serve her in real life. _In life_ , _you have to take chances_ , she said, _you have to take steps without knowing the way, you have to act without knowing the how_. “

Alex listens while holding her breath. That is the first time she hears this story, about her mother. He continues a bit pensively.

“As the saying goes, life is a hard teacher and gives you the lesson first but the answers only after.”

She doesn’t recall ever having heard him quote this before, what she remembers is him almost preaching, ‘ _it’s always better to know than not know_.’ Usually followed by him handing her a book or two from his library.

“Susanne would remind me to not only support our daughter in her quest for knowledge but in teaching her that it’s just as important to ask good questions _without_ having an answer, that learning and improving is better than just reiterating what others said before you. “

She challenges him.

“You never said that to me?”

Arthur tilts his head in a very bird like gesture.

“Of course, I never said that to you, I said it to my daughter.” He moves his head away to the window, there is a pigeon somewhere in the tree in front of it.

“Or, I meant to say it, and more often. It is a difficult lesson, one that I had to take again and again - that you know much more in the end, _if_ you ask questions and admit to not knowing in the _beginning_. “ He pauses for a moment. “It’s such a joy to see my daughter trying to impress me with what she learns every day. My wife keeps reminding me that it’s not good to connect achievement with love, that our daughter needs to know that she is loved without having to prove herself. Unconditionally. And she is. We love her so, so much. And her bright mind, well it’s a miracle. It really is.”

Arthur gets up and looks out the window, maybe searching for the pigeon, and down at his watch. Well, at the place at his wrist where his watch used to be.

“She really should be here by now.”

Alex is stunned. They always talk endlessly about countless things without him recognizing her as his daughter. He tells her about his wife and their love, sometimes he recalls old colleagues or his favorite lectures, heroic stories, and tragic plays. He is mostly peacefully withdrawn in his own world, has been for five years. He does remember a lot of things. Just never when asked for them. This is the most animated and engaged he is been in a very long time.

Arthur sits down again next to her, with a straight back and places his hands on his knees, bowing his head.

“But I broke it. The bright light in her, I broke it, when Susanne died, and I couldn’t be there for her. I was in so much pain and the grief... but that is no excuse for breaking my daughter’s trust. I abandoned her.”

Alex protests, from her whole heart. Arthur had always been there for her, supported her academic endeavors, rejoiced in her achievements, every single day - until the day came when he didn't know her anymore.

“Yes, I did. Maybe not in an obvious way but for a while in a much worse sort of way kind. I used her as a crutch, as a way to deal with the loss. We spent whole weeks in our pajamas, in front of the telly, watching old movies. It was an escape, a way to spend time together without having to face reality. A reality without Susanne, without her mother. I had no words; I could not talk. So we sat on the couch and the silence was covered by the movie dialogues.”

Alex does of course remember. Oddly enough she looks back at what Arthur just described as his darkest time in a slightly different light. She had been in pain as well but at the same time had felt comfort, had understood that the silence he offered was more sincere and full of love than anything that could have been expressed by speech.

She wants to tell him that, but Arthur goes on.

“I’m not sure how long I would have continued to ignore my teaching duties, kept her out of school, eating sweets all day… my mother at some point put her foot down, and made it clear that this was no way for a 14 year old to deal with what happened, and it certainly was no way for a grown man to act. I didn’t want my daughter to go to France with my parents, but at the same time, I knew I was in no way fit to properly take care of her or myself. So they went to the village where my mother was born and still had friends, and my parents gave her the stability and care I was incapable of, at the time.”

Arthur looks tired and Alex can sense he is losing focus. It must cost him tremendous energy, she hasn’t seen or heard him so articulate and concentrated in years. She would normally encourage him to rest, to lay down maybe, but right now she is electrified by the things he explains, things she was never aware, had no, or at least a different memory of.

Arthur takes her hand in his papery one, turning her fingers.

“You aren’t married? A beautiful woman like you?”

It’s a touchy subject for her, one that while he was still himself, Arthur would have never broached.

“No, I am free bird,” she tries in a joking tone and gently removes her hand out of his grasp.

“I used to say that as well - until the moment Susanne took that lonely free bird and gave it a new home in the infinite wealth of her heart. I never wanted to leave this beautiful cage ever again...”

Alex appreciates he is quoting his own letter to his wife, her mum; she knows their correspondence mostly by heart. Arthur was an eloquent writer, her mother's love for poetry and romance shone through every line she put to paper. She wipes a tear from her eye before it can fall and listens as her father sighs.

“But I had to… leave and let her go. However, I still had a piece of her, in my daughter, and after a while I came to my senses. Well, my daughter brought me out of my numbness with her letters from France. She started to write them in Greek, can you imagine? At that age she already had a fantastic grasp of the language and she must have spent hours at the library to enlarge her vocabulary. “

He looks slyly at Alex.

“You are too young to remember, but there was a time before the internet. And people had to use books, not screens. Good old times.”

Alex chuckles. She does remember the dusty school library all too well.

“So when these letters came, I just knew it was time to get her back home and to be the father she deserves. I wanted to rebuild what had been lost, and even though I tried…she wasn’t the same girl when she returned. Not that I expected her to be the same, she was turning into a young woman and I was preparing myself for all sorts of situations, emotional as well as...biological.”

Arthur blushes a bit. Alex will never forget how hard he had tried to be an understanding father to a teenage girl, but she had Severine as well as Grand-mère and no patience for his male awkwardness. And he is right, she realizes. She returned changed, convinced that her intellectual challenge as feeble as it might have been at that point, had impressed her father and awakened his attention, and she wanted to keep it that way. She knew he loved her, but there was always the nagging voice propelling her towards academic achievements to remind him she was there.

“My daughter came back seemingly with the impression that she needed to earn my love, to constantly do something to keep me happy...when all I wanted was for _her_ to be happy.”

He once again gets up and looks through the room searchingly and tilts his head, listening to voices of people long gone. He turns and stands very close in front of her, taking her face in his shaking hands while she looks up at his wrinkled face.

“Do you understand what I am saying? I need to tell her; she needs to know that she only has to _BE_ , that existing is enough to be worthy of love. Susanne was right to remind me, my daughter needs to understand that. I don’t need her to prove that she is so much smarter than me, she is wonderful and deserves … love... and she is missing so many experiences if she avoids what she doesn’t know or understand. If she is scared of even trying.”

Arthur is getting too agitated to continue and raises his voice as he gestures wildly. Alex knows Beata will come in to help any minute, he is getting loud enough for her to hear. As she cannot convince him on her own to lay down or rest, she simply agrees with him. She is surprised by the sudden turn in mood and tries to pacify him.

“Of course, I see, you are absolutely right. And I’m quite sure she knows that.”

But that is the wrong thing to say, apparently.

“No, she doesn’t, she doesn’t. She doesn’t even call me Dad anymore; she pretends to be a grown up, or what she perceives it is to be one, as if she is my colleague not my daughter and so much more valuable. She hides behind the mannerisms and phrases and papers. Susanne told me just last night to remind her of the prosopons, to remind her that she doesn’t need to hide...”

Beata comes in and jointly they move him to bed, where he suddenly seems to lose all strain and glides down exhausted. They close the curtains to dim the day light and Beata starts the CD with a concerto by Bach, which usually helps to calm him.

Alex sits at the end of the bed, laying her hand on Arthur’s covered legs and only realized her face is wet when Beata hands her a tissue without a comment. She blows her nose as quietly as possible and nods when the nurse gestures that she will leave her alone again.

So many years and she never realized that this was going on in his great mind. She had always felt the urge to make them proud yes, to show that she was their daughter and worthy. But there had always been so much love from Arthur, and every memory of her mum is bathed in warm feelings of the knowledge that she was the most important person in their lives. She had watched her parents and felt like nothing could come between the three of them, and the loss of her mother had broken so much… however not the affection she had for her father, especially when looking back, she understood with growing experience the situation he had been struggling with, and the year in France had been the right decision, not even taking into consideration that it had given her Severine.

Yes, she had started calling him Arthur, to show that she was not a child anymore but willing to take on the shared responsibilities, that he needn’t worry about her being a burden. She loved him and wanted to stay home and with him. Later at university it was also just easier, she felt more comfortable referring to him as Dr. Arthur as the rest of the students did, to make it clear that no favours were given or expected just because they were family.

Remembering her parent’s love had ultimately been what guided her through her heartaches and had given her the strength to not get distracted by easy flirts or unreliable commitments. She knew first hand from them what true love looked like, should be like, and nothing else would ever do. Her parents had been exceptional people, with steadfast loyalties for one another. Over time Alex watched couples around her cheat, lie, divorce, and the north star of the glowing example of Susanne and Arthur was what had kept her from falling into those traps like so many. Well, after her own experience with Martin, anyway.

Alex looks at Arthur’s resting form and the photograph of her parents at their wedding day on his nightstand. When she had been a little girl, her Mum had braided her hair and put the veil she had kept from the wedding dress on her daughter’s head. Alex had felt like a princess and was ready for her prince, that would surely come and treat and cherish her the way her father had her mother.

Alex squints her eyes; she hadn’t been thinking of that for a long time. She had abandoned the belief in the white knight, all too aware that this life was her responsibility alone, and no one would, or should for that matter, come to the rescue.

She consciously listens to her thoughts and reflects on what Arthur tried to say. Yes, she doesn’t like not knowing, admitting that she is anything if not an expert or at least educated on topics regarding her life. And yes, she tends to avoid new things. Travel to new places, trying new food or … meeting new people outside her circle. She smiles upon ignorant customers, but she has the uncomfortable feeling now that this is an arrogance, she wasn’t aware she possessed, and it doesn’t sit right with her.

The truth is, she feels exposed when she doesn’t know the facts, or at least more than the person opposite her. It protects her to know. And if she doesn’t, she will not engage and suffer the possible embarrassment.

It’s a painful revelation, and it’s true.

She accused Tom of hiding and is in her own way doing a great job of that herself.

 _Oh_.

Tom.

Alex has successfully avoided looking at her phone and dwelling on thoughts other than how to take care of Arthur. She still hasn’t replied to Tom. She knows it’s impolite at the very least, but at the same time it feels like she is standing in front of an abyss and the next move will decide whether she will fall or fly.

Looking back at the last 7 days, she has gone through more emotions than in the past 7 years combined. The roller coaster of discoveries about Tom, and in turn about herself, has left her head spinning. Well, if she is totally honest it isn’t Tom’s fault, he is merely the catalyst to challenging her beliefs, shaking her view of the world – and herself.

She opens his last message.

‘ _I’m a bit worried by your silence, is everything all right?_ ’

It’s from this morning and she feels really bad about keeping him troubled that long.

_‘Tom, apologies for not answering properly before. I had a situation with my father that required taking care of. He is fine now but dealing with this made me realize some things and I needed time to process. You said we are friends, right? As a friend, can I ask for your advice?’_

She very quickly hits send before her brain can argue her out of it, and puts the phone in her back pocket, not wanting to fester on the thought when and how he might reply. She starts tidying up the few belongings Arthur has set out on his dresser like she usually does before she leaves, when her phone silently vibrates almost immediately.

_‘Alex, I’m glad to hear you are ok, and whatever it is, I am happy to help. I’m finishing dinner with my family and could call you in about 1 hour, will that work?’_

Damn, for whatever reason she didn’t think he would offer to call her back tonight.

 _‘Thank you, but no need to rush, we can just text. And sorry for interrupting.’,_ she hurries to reply.

_‘Don’t think I haven’t noticed you hate to text. Plus, I’ll be in the car driving home, so no interruption but a welcome distraction to talk with you. I’ll call you when I’m in the car.’_

Arthur snores peacefully when Alex switches off the light as she leaves, and Beata waves her goodbye as she exits the main hall to rush to catch the bus.

Her phone rings as she exits the tube station, five minutes away from her flat.

“Thank you for taking the time,” she is still not sure what exactly she wants to tell him. For once texting would have been her preferred way of communication. It would have given her time to think.

“I was quite concerned when you went silent on me there, how is your dad?”

“He is okay now, thank you for asking. I don’t use my phone for much but calling once in a while so I didn’t see your messages right away.”

Alex takes a breath.

“And I’m not used to receiving messages. I’m not much of a socialite if I’m honest. Only Severine and Alistair call me, usually. No one else uses my number, really.” She is stalling and she knows it.

“All good. I’m glad to hear your voice though. How can I help, what’s on your mind?”

Alex opens the door to her flat, drops her things on the dining table and stands next to the fridge, fiddling with the magnets on the surface. Her hands are shaking, her heart is racing. She needs to sit down.

“Well, I have this hypothesis and I was wondering …”

She stops and starts again, evading what she really wants to say.

“By the way did you know, that the word hypothesis referred to a summary of the plot of a classical drama and comes from the Greek word _hupothesis_ , meaning _to put under_ or _to suppose_.”

She can tell Tom has no idea where this is going but he is a good sport and agrees with her statement.

“So, where _am_ I going with this." She pauses, and then jumps. “Tom, could we _suppose_ I have this… friend. She just met someone, and she likes him. But she is… out of practice where social interactions are concerned, and I was wondering how she might be able to find out the intentions of the other person without making a fool of herself.”

She feels like she achieved making a total fool of herself just fine, stuttering like that, but at least it’s out. Her hands are suddenly steady, and it’s as if her whole body is holding its breath waiting to see what happens after she made the leap. She strains to listen for Tom’s reply but all she can make out for a moment is the noise of the car engine.

He clears his throat.

“Well, hypothetically, your friend might meet with that person and they can talk about it? Chances are that person likes her as well and might have a similar feeling.”

“That seems… reasonable.” Alex has no idea how she can sound so calm.

“Maybe in the bookstore?” Tom sounds calm as well.

“Yes, I will be there… I mean, she.”

Tom chuckles, and Alex is surprised at how familiar she is with that sound by now.

“I’m looking forward to it, maybe lunch again, or a walk?”

She sighs, relieved.

“Yes, please.”

“I could also just come by your place now…though I have to drive another hour and it would be quite late.”

“No. Tomorrow is just fine. Drive carefully.”

“Of course, I’ll see you tomorrow … and Alex?

“Yes?”

“Sweet dreams.”

The second she hangs up her phone rings again. It’s Severine and how did she know just when to call?

“The girls say thank you for the dresses. But we both know that is not why I’m calling. I would have thought you would give me an update over the weekend!“

“I had a scare with Arthur and just came back from the usual Sunday visit, though there was nothing usual about it.

“What do you mean, is he okay?”

“Yes, he is. But also…he talked about things that he never before mentioned, about Mum. It was surprising and it made me…” Alex takes a deep breath. “Severine, I called him, Tom, and we will meet again tomorrow to talk.”

“What do you mean, again?”

“We went for a walk on Friday, but it rained and we talked at his house.”

“Hold on… what exactly happened after I left for Paris?”

It takes a while to bring Severine up to speed, and Alex is secretly proud when she hears herself steadily describing the last three days. Severine is very proud as well and they eventually agree that they will continue their talk tomorrow after Tom had been to the shop.

Exhausted Alex falls finally into bed, but only after having brushed her teeth. Enough chaos around her for one day, some sense of dignified routine needs to be preserved in this uncivilized world after all.

__

## 20:53 GMT

_Waste no fresh tears over old griefs._

_— Euripides_

Tom hung up and there was a moment when he just stared ahead onto the dark in the motorway and held his breath. The next instant he startled Toby awake with a very loud and heartfelt “ _Yes!_ ”, while hitting the steering wheel enthusiastically.

His silent prayers had been heard; his patience rewarded. Yes!!! 

A second later his phone rang again. He squinted at the display, worried it might be Alex, that she’d changed her mind, but it was Luke. 

“Mate, I hate to do this to you on such short notice but is there any chance you can fly to Edinburgh tomorrow morning?”

Tom’s stomach dropped, “What?”

“I know I said this wouldn’t be coming up for a while, but as these things go, Tessa just called, and the investor has committed after all. This is your chance of a lifetime; Chris is on standby to book your flights.” 

‘Luke,” Tom’s mind was racing with equal parts excitement and disappointment, “I’ve made plans for tomorrow. Important plans.” 

“More important than Sean?” 

Searching for a solution, Tom asked, “Can I be back to London in time for dinner?” 

For a second, Luke was silent, and when he spoke, Tom could hear the smile on his face, “Sure, even if I have to charter you a heli to get you back to your lady friend.”

Strangely enough Tom suddenly had a vision of Alex sitting next to him, explaining in a serious tone that _the word helicopter originates from Greek_ _helix for 'spiral or whirl' and pteron for 'wing'._

He shook his head at himself.

“I didn’t say…”

“No, but you just confirmed,” Luke laughed. “You’ll have your e-ticket in 10 minutes. Car will be at your house at five-forty-five sharp.”

Tom immediately tried to get hold of Alex, the call going straight to voice mail. After 15 minutes the same. And 15 minutes after that as well.

Leaving a voice message postponing their first official date - it was a date this time, right? - after what he thought was a monumental step towards each other, was a mistake. He didn’t dare send her a text either. The impoliteness of it, the impersonal feeling made him cringe. The plan had been to meet for lunch, only now, if she agreed, it would be dinner. A very late dinner, possibly. Not such a big deal in the grand scheme, except… would she feel he was putting her in second place to his career?

“Tom, is everything all right?”

Alex’s sleepy and worried voice pulled him out of his musing. Finally, she had picked up.

“Yes, I’m so sorry, I’m all right. Did I wake you? I am so sorry!”

“No, I mean, I am in bed, but I wasn’t asleep.”

“That’s good, okay.” He collected himself, taking a deep breath. “Great. I mean, the reason why I’m calling is not great, but nothing too terrible either, I hope.“

He was relieved to speak with her in person, but deeply embarrassed when he continued.

“I just got off the phone with my agent and I don’t know how to say this without sounding like an ass, but I need to postpone our da… plans. I have to go to Edinburgh tomorrow, but only for the day. I really wouldn’t do this to you if it wasn’t the opportunity of a lifetime, a professional dream, really, coming true and I am so, so sorry to do this literally only an hour after we agreed…”

“It’s all right don’t worry. We can see each other another time.”

Tom was taken aback by her interruption, but even more so by how resigned she sounded. How unsurprised. What idiot had ever canceled on her like this, he wondered, that she simply accepted his ramblings at face value and didn’t give him hell for this behaviour?

“No, Alex, I really want to see you, as I said I would come by even now, if it weren’t already so late.”

He wanted to keep on protesting but was again interrupted.

“It’s fine, Tom.”

“No, it’s really _not_!”

He paused at his own outburst. When did he turn on himself? He should have been glad she was being so understanding, shouldn’t he?

“What I meant to say is, I can't stand people who don’t keep promises. I am not that person. I have a good reason, I really do. If it weren’t the only chance to meet with Sean tomorrow, neither hell nor high water would keep me away. I have been waiting for a joint meeting with him and this director for literally years and…”

Alex sounded like she was smiling when she interrupted him yet again.

“Tom, I do understand that certain things sometimes have to take priority.”

“Yes, sometime, short term, even if they might be less important in the long run.”, he intercepted relieved.

“Yes, and I mean it, it’s fine. We can meet when you are back in the evening or the next day.”

“Are you sure?”

He was listening very carefully for anything that might be said between the lines but could only make out truth in her clear, certain voice.

“You say you have a meeting you cannot postpone, and we have one that we actually can postpone. It’s a no brainer. Really.”

“Okay, then. I mean, if you are sure? My plane lands 19:20 at city airport, if all goes well, I could be at your place a bit after 8?”

“Sure, that’ll be fine. However, … what will you be doing with Toby while you are gone?”

Tom was flabbergasted at the abrupt change of subject.

“I was about to call my friends to see if they would look after him. Why?”

“Well, if you’d like, I could drop by your place and have look if he is all right during the day.”

“Would you, really?”

“Yes, why not, if you trust me with him and your door code?”

She sounded teasing. That was good, right?

“Toby will be out of his little brain with joy, I’m sure, but isn’t that asking a bit much?”

Alex snorted in a very unladylike manner. He adored the sound immediately.

“Pfft, really? I would actually love to have him for the day, if you agree. He can keep me company and we can take a walk during my break. Alistair will be coming by in the early afternoon and may as well make himself useful. I will bring Toby around after closing and we’ll wait at your place… and we could talk when you get back?”

Alex sounded a bit wary at that last bit, but Tom was too overjoyed to question it.

“Of course! But I would also have no issue with coming to your place.”

“Yes, I appreciate that… but to be honest I am not quite confident taking Toby on the tube.”

“Oh, right. Well, if you are fine with waiting for me, please make yourself at home.”

As he said this, he realized that the bathrooms hadn’t been cleaned for a while. Well, they’d be sparkling by tomorrow morning – the loss of an hour’s sleep was a small price to pay for her gracious acceptance of the wrench he’d put into their plans.

“Alex, I’m so glad you aren’t upset.”

She sighed on the other side and he could literally hear her making up her mind to not answer with a stock phrase but rather, something sincere.

“Tom, I’m a grown up, despite the slightly immature way I asked you on a date. I do know that plans change and as long as you really want to see me, I am happy to wait a few more hours.”

“I not only want to see you genuinely, I assure you I am absolutely delighted, and so will Toby be. Thank you again, and I’ll text you the door code instruction, all right?”

“Yes, Tom, that’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow at your place. Good night, and good luck with your meeting.”

She hung up before he could say something to that, but it was just as well, since he would have only gone on and on about how amazing her understanding was.

Tom arrived at his house and sat in the dark car for a moment before he went inside, carrying a sleeping Toby and placed him on his bed.

Standing in the hall, tapping his toe, Tom made up his mind and started searching for paper, to write her a welcome note, instructing her on how to use the tricky stove and his precious stereo. He smiled as he thought of a quote to add:

_‘Welcome stranger. You shall be entertained as a guest among us. Afterward when you have tasted dinner, you shall tell us what your need is.'_


	8. Monday, April 20

## 22:07 GMT

_Time is the wisest of all things that are; for it brings everything to light._

_—Thales of Miletus_

Alex keeps stroking Toby who lifts his head, wags his tail but doesn’t otherwise move an inch when they both hear Tom at the door. She listens to Tom dropping his keys and probably some kind of bag, and then he stands in the doorway looking at her, as she is bathed in warm light from the little side lamp next to the book shelf, relaxing on his couch, bare feet up on the small littered coffee table and Toby spread all over her, already back to sleep and softly snoring.

“Did you know your Mum made a smiley face from cherry tomatoes on the salad you brought back with you? Also, there is none left.”

Tom chuckles, “I did not but I am glad you helped yourself to some food. I’m sorry I’m so late.”

Alex can see a tie carelessly stuffed in the pocket of his suit jacket as he takes it off and hangs it over the kitchen chair. He sits down next to her and pets Toby who yawns but still makes no move to set Alex free.

“That’s life. Toby is a great substitute for a hot water bottle.” Alex muses and their fingers touch as they both caress the fluffy animal.

They keep looking at Toby’s blissful wiggling and Alex wants to run, and to stay, at the same time. She had been out of the house, ready to escape before Tom’s arrival, at least four times in the past three hours but never actually leaving; Toby had gotten quite confused at her opening and closing the door so repeatedly. It seems once she settled on the couch, he decided that pinning her to the seat with his insubstantial body weight would be a good way to have her stay put and make it clear where she belonged in his world.

“So, how did it go?”

Alex has avoided looking at Tom’s face since the moment he came in, so he holds onto her hands and when she does look at him, the radiance of his smile takes her breath away.

“It went marvellously well, and I cannot thank you enough. I now consider you my lucky charm. I believe in about 24 months you shall be seeing me on the big screen with a _broad Scottish accent_.”

She laughs as he intended, at his imitation of what was obviously meant to be a really bad brogue, and even more so when Toby growls in annoyance at him when the space between the two humans becomes too tight for his liking. Tom brushes a strand of hair from her face like he has been wanting to do since he met her and leans very close, but Alex is too nervous to wait and see if that means what she thinks it does. She pushes Toby to get up even though he is not ready to, goes to the kitchen, taking tea from the shelf.

“I helped myself earlier to some of your lovely selection, and thought I’d make some more. Would you also like a cup?”

Tom slowly follows her, rolling up the sleeves of his stark white shirt as he goes, opening two buttons at his throat, and finally stands very close, getting fresh cups as she fills the kettle over the sink.

“Alex… is everything all right? You still are here for us to talk, yes?” He doesn’t look at her directly while he says it in a light tone, not wanting to admit how important her answers is, sorting through the tea, while holding his breath.

She nods and switches the kettle on.

He turns towards her, while her back is still turned to him. He’s so close, he’s almost breathing down her neck, not touching her but she is all too conscious of the heat radiating from his body. She had not before been aware of how much taller he actually is than herself, especially now, since she is barefoot and he still wears his shoes; his bare forearms strangely inviting, he could easily surround her with them, but he doesn’t.

Tom senses her unease and even though he wants to be close, and aches to touch her, he doesn’t. He knows what he wants to do... but he doesn’t. Not yet.

He waits, as they move like magnets in the little space, preparing tea, almost in sync but with a constant tiny buffer between them; in a dance that is dictated by the synchronized beating of excited hearts, however, not orchestrated, not quite in tune. Alex takes a shaky breath, holds it, and finally faces Tom.

“Okay, here it goes. I haven’t been in a relationship in ten years. I have not been with a man, in more than ten years.”

She states this very clearly, focusing now on his eyes and reading every tiny emotion from his face. She waits.

To say Tom is surprised is an understatement. Alex stands before him, vibrating with a strange energy, his fingers itch to touch her soft skin, to grasp her silky hair he’s desperate to taste her warm mouth, and once the meaning of the words gets through to him… he is stunned, she sees it in his face. She expects it. Has provoked it very deliberately. And like in any good drama, Greek or otherwise, she isn’t done.

“I’ve had no interest in any relationship of a romantic or physical nature in over a decade. I am not sure I do now.”

Instinctively, he takes a step back, literally feeling her well-aimed blow in his gut, but realizes the message this sends and holds himself where he is. After a moment he cautiously moves again toward her.

“That’s quite a statement.” He mentally rewinds what she just said. “And especially if you aren’t sure about this, I am glad you are still here nonetheless. I appreciate you telling me so… straight.” He tilts his head, questioningly, “Why does it sound like you think that would scare me off?”

She expected questions but not this one.

“I’m not trying to scare you. I am giving you facts.”

The hours spent waiting for him had turned Alex’s calm argumentation slowly but surely into something else entirely, in her anxiety she charged when she had wanted to surrender. She is aware that she cornered herself nicely in the course of 4 sentences, but pride now commands her to keep her chin up and see this through. As Alex struggles for words, Tom continues, not aggressively but very on point.

“Facts designed to put me off it sounds like, which they don’t - well, unless of course you want me to be put off?”

He is astonished to see anger rising in her. It appears she did not expect his reaction

“I’m not attempting to put you _off_. I am simply telling you, so you can come to an informed decision. I wanted you to be able to make a choice with open eyes, knowing that this is rather unusual. You should have all the facts.”

Who is this in front of him, looking like Alex and hiding like lawyer behind an armor of ferocity? He tries to project a calm he does not feel.

“I wasn’t aware of the necessity for a decision, and to be honest, I’m not sure I have much choice in the matter anymore. I’m already in.” Tom sighs and puts his cards on the table, “ _All_ in. So, it’s really _you_ who has to take a decision, make a choice.”

Alex is lost for words. She calculated a lot of possible scenarios, all ending with her being asked to leave, whether to at least give Tom time to digest, or because he knew right away that he wasn’t interested in a woman who would turn out to be too much work – somehow in all that though, it had never occurred to her that he’d want her to stay.

“My decision?”

Tom sees her chest moving fast, lips pressed thin, hands in fists at her side, and he doesn’t understand how they got to her being close to an anxiety attack in under 10 minutes of him returning home. Yes, this calm statement had cost her, he could see that, and the way she had done so seems a bit dramatic, - but then, this is so _her_. Nothing by the halves. Nothing ordinary to be expected from Alex.

He tries to retrace the steps they just verbally took and in a much softer voice, keeps going. “You made the first move yesterday, and now you say you aren’t sure you want a relationship - which is fair enough.” They stare at each other. ”However, you haven’t left. So, I take it you want to be here, for now. I, certainly, want you to be.”

Tom takes his time, holds her gaze to make sure to tenderly but thoroughly puncture the steel shielding her.

“I am overjoyed we are here, together. Whatever you would like for this to mean.”

“I do want to be here. But…I don’t know how to do _this_.”

He can see fright in her eyes for a moment, like a cornered animal. Gently he coaxes, “I don’t know either. I thought that was why we were having this conversation; so that we can find out together?”

The offer seems to take some the tension out of her face and body. Tom watches her intently and finishes his thought.

“Whether you were in a with someone five minutes ago, or never - would that impact you and me, or our possible relationship?”

“I don’t know.” It seems once she says it out loud it becomes easier to admit.

“Would you be willing to try and see?”

Alex looks away for a moment, then lifts her eyes and nods. Decisively.

“And you?”

“Why on earth would I _not_ want to?”

Tom takes this chance to voice what he meant to say earlier, when coming home to her had been like an actual… home coming. Before they ended up in this strange situation, standing across each other like opponents.

”It seems you have miraculously not noticed it, but I am hopelessly drawn to you. I hadn’t even seen your face yet, just the top of your head buried in books, and I was already drawn to you. And before you say it, it had very little to do with what you look like.”

She laughs at that and tentatively admits, “It’s been so long since I gave _this_ a second thought, relationships, gender dynamics, the games played by the sexes… I mean, I didn’t even realize how much time had passed since…until I did the math.”

“When did you do that math?”

Not anticipating the questions, she answers without a second thought, “Last Tuesday. Why?”

 _Because it means you are in it as long as I have been_ , Tom thinks but is wise enough to not voice it, only smiles at her warmly.

“Thank you.”

“What for?” Alex is genuinely perplexed.

“For taking the step and reaching out. For taking a chance on me. Because you dare to trust me with something so deeply personal. You haven’t shared your heart or bed in a long time, and I am sure for good reason, but you are giving us a chance now.“

Alex takes a steading breath of sanity and looks away from him as the last tension leaves her body with the next exhale. “I don’t understand what made me so … hostile just now. I apologize… This didn’t go as I had expected. I had only planned on telling you that I don’t think this will work. And somehow over the course of the last hours I had talked my self into believing it wouldn’t even make sense to try.”

“Well, that’s not very scientific.” He grins, “How would we know this won’t work - unless we try it?”

Alex calms further as she looks at Tom, really looks at him now that the tunnel vision has receded. He hasn’t backed down and he smiles. Such a beautiful, patient smile. And she says what’s been on her mind for days now, her voice shaking.

“I cannot figure out what it is you might expect.“ And before Tom can question her on that, she adds: “And do you know, you sound a lot like a shrink when faced with an upset woman?”

Her tone echoes the Alex Tom has come to know over the last week, which relieves him immensely. And yes, he is aware that during their exchange he has been hiding behind an intellectual approach while his head was spinning, and his heart stuttering. To go from imagining a quiet evening with a delightful woman and hopefully a good snog, to suddenly having to battle in unknown territory, to hold on to her by a margin so thin he is afraid to even breath… Not because there is even the slightest chance of him walking out after she just let him in, as she insinuated, but because he doesn’t understand why she thought it possible in the first place. She had opened up and then again pushed him away. It feels weirdly like she is testing him – what for, he has no idea. But it is suddenly clear that this is a fight for a relationship that has barely begun, and is already very important to him, worryingly so. Her honesty gives him hope but also scares him shitless, so he takes a deep breath and does what comes naturally, he goes for a bad joke.

“Well, I’m not a therapist, but I could play one on TV.”

Alex stares at him disbelievingly and with wide open eyes starts laughing, against her will really. First a giggle bubbles up in her and she tries to suppress it but soon it comes out with a force she cannot stop.

He smiles, the comic relief he aimed for, for once working, breaking the tension into bite sized pieces he thinks he knows how to handle.

Alex surprises him, yet again.

“Any chance we can start this conversation over?”

He nods and offers dryly: “As you wish. Take two is usually the better one…”

Alex looks away and then into his eyes, rushing the sentence, trying to erase the last minutes. Hoping against all odds for a second chance at their first test of a fragile connection.

“So, I guess I wanted to tell you I haven’t had any interest in anyone for the past few years?”

“I guess you had loads of interesting books to keep you occupied?”

Alex shrugs her shoulders and tries to come up with the lighthearted answer she would have liked to give originally. Before panic had kicked in.

“Yes. What can I say? Time flies while you’re reading Aesop.”

He extends his hand, she takes it.

“Tea?” She gestures to the kettle. The touch of his warm, strong fingers transmits a feeling of security, of trust, and she draws strength from the encouraging look in his eyes.

They sit down again on the couch; Alex holds her cup of tea with both hands as if to warm them. Toby lifts his head from his bed, seems to consider joining them but is too tired and rests again on the soft cushion below him.

Tom is prepared to give her time but Alex starts talking immediately, fast, looking straight ahead, like she is watching and narrating a movie only she can see.

“It never came up, you know? Or maybe it’s more that I was never tempted, and put _myself_ out of temptation’s way, if that makes sense? I had my books, studies and the store and research. It never felt like I was missing anything. And now there is you. I feel like I’m discovering a muscle I haven’t used in a very long time. And it’s painful. I hate not knowing what to do.”

Tom sees, she is trying to explain and make sense of it for his sake, but also that she is frustrated by the result.

She adds, “I’m no sure what made me spring this on you the way I did.”

“I get it. It’s fine.” Tom assures her, even though in truth he doesn’t, not really. Looking back, it seems she had been almost determined to provoke him into _making_ her leave. He wants to see her eyes, to understand, but can’t, sitting next to her, only the side of her face visible, while she is studiously staring ahead of her.

To make sure they don’t lose the delicate connection they’ve just rebuilt, he gets up, pushes the sturdy coffee table a fraction away from the couch, moves the books on it to the side, making space so he can sit on the surface, directly in front of her. Not crowding her, but concentrating on her, his bare forearms resting on his knees.

Alex observes this, taken aback by the unexpected move, but much more surprised by how this simple gesture, of giving her his whole focus, lights her up inside, makes her want to close the space between them despite her earlier anxiety. Their faces only centimeters apart, he leans toward her, creating a bubble of security, almost hypnotizing. The silence is not unpleasant. Toby snores.

She half expects Tom to lean in to kiss her or at least touch her somehow, but he is motionless.

“Did something happen, the last time you were with someone?”

This assumption shouldn’t surprise her, and she considers what to tell him, exactly. She once again automatically looks over his shoulder, avoiding his gaze, but he won’t let her; tilting his head, moving into her field of view, connecting with her eyes.

“I met Martin at uni in my first year. He was an assistant professor. He was charming and intelligent - and I realize looking back, listening to myself, it sounds very cliché. He swore love, then fucked around my back with a fellow student. And as it turned out, he really wasn’t cheating so much on me but on his fiancée, who was pregnant with his child, waiting for him in their flat in Chiswick. Or wherever.”

Tom can’t help himself he has to laugh at her matter of fact statement.

“Chiswick. Really.”

Alex shrugs.

“Arthur wanted to get him fired, but he left on his own, the separation battle and the payment for alimony was punishment enough. I believe he now teaches in Antarctica.”

“It sounds like he was a bloody idiot and you have dealt with this quite well, after all.”

It’s half a compliment and half a question, and Tom is sure this cannot be the whole story. It feels more like the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

“It made me doubt myself. It made me feel stupid. And I hate feeling stupid. It seemed everyone but me knew, and that I was incompetent in the field of intimacy and deserved what happened. ”She adds quietly,“It hurt.”

“You were what, in your early twenties?

“23.”

“Are you telling me that you really think you could have known? That you _deserved_ it, that it was your fault?“

“No way was _that_ my fault!” She brushes her hair from her face in an angry gesture. “I don’t take the blame for his character defects. I know all the things that people say in situations like these. Meg told me, Severine told me, Grand-mère told me way back. _Not my fault_. Believe me, I get it. He was an ass.” She tears her eyes from his, this time almost forcibly. “But what happened made me aware…of other things. Of certain shortcomings. It just didn’t seem worth the headache, after that. My energy was much better invested in my studies.” She observes with a rueful smile. ”Much more predictable outcomes.”

Tom nods.

“I get that this was hurtful, I sympathize with your feelings of betrayal, but I need to ask – ten years? And what short comings? I mean, refraining from commitment, that part I understand sadly enough, but what about intimacy, connecting, even if only on a physical level? Was there really no one? Nothing?

“No.”

Tom waits.

Alex struggles.

“In the beginning, I was numb and maybe even blind to anything related to that. Male students gave me a wide pass for the rest of my studies; I was probably putting out some kind of repellent magnetic field. I didn’t see the world as I did before, it was like there was a filter. I just went around situations that would potentially lead to contacts I didn’t want. I didn’t miss anything. I tried, got burned, end of story. Lesson learned.” She half smiles at him. “I never thought I’d have to explain this to anyone. I never thought I would even want to. Or try again.”

“Yet… here we are.” Tom states and leans now so close their noses almost touch. “What made you change your mind? My winning nature and blinding good looks?”

“I don’t know.“ Alex doesn’t take him up on his joke, but after a moment wistfully quotes: “I guess ‘ _the day came when the risk to remain in a bud was more painful than the risk to blossom’_.”

Tom hums thoughtfully and looks down from her eyes to her lips.

 _He is going to kiss me now_ , Alex thinks but again nothing happens, except that their breath mingles, and she can see the tired lines around his eyes. They are so close, she can smell his day on him, a tiny tang of cologne, some London air, a little bit of dog and faintly some sweat underneath it all. Intoxicating.

“Who is Arthur?”

The change of subject throws her off.

“What?”

“You mentioned the name before and just now you said he wanted to fire the fuckwit.”

“Arthur is my father. Us being in the same field, it was just easier to refer to him like everyone else did.”

“Oh, I see.”

Tom takes her hands and she is surprised to realize how cold they still are in comparison to his warmth. He brings her fingers to his lips and gently breathes warms on them. His open smile thaws the few still lingering doubts and right now all she can recall is that he would never hurt her. This evening did not go quite as she had imagined. Maybe she should tell him the rest…

“So, quite a first date.” Tom smiles and interrupts her inner conflict. A car honks in the street.

“I beg to differ.”

Tom raises his eyebrows. “Are you saying that all your interactions go down like this?”

“No.” She smiles. “ I mean, let’s not call this a date. I would prefer if tonight was a… trial run? Tomorrow will be the date. That is, if we are still going to the theatre?” Alex realizes she might be assuming too much and the end of the questions sounds rather tentative.

“If I am allowed to wine and dine you, and introduce you to some friends, then yes, tomorrow shall be the first date after today’s rehearsal.”

Tom stands up and pulls her with him. She hears a repeated tooting from the street.

“I asked the driver that brought me from the airport to wait outside, in case you needed a ride.”

Alex, feeling brave, cups his face with her hands, searching in his eyes, finding her answer and nods as she lets go of him. For a moment Tom hopes she will kiss him.

“That is very considerate of you.”

Alex turns to get her things, but he doesn’t let go of her hands, so she looks at him questioningly.

“I appreciate your openness and how difficult it must have been, but…that’s still not the whole story, is it?”

She hesitates and outside the horn honks again.

“Is it ever?”

Alex gets in the car and leans her head back, exhausted. She is feeling like herself, and yet like a stranger – floating weightless, yet rooted at the same time. Shocked out of her shell, yet not unprotected. She discovers, she believes Tom’s smile and his words.


	9. Tuesday, April 21

## 18:15 GMT

_The unexamined life is not worth living._

_—_ Socrates

The minute before Tom picks her up, Alex sends a _‘thank you for your concern but please stop it now_ ’ message to Severine, puts her mobile on silent and in her purse. They had been on the phone during lunch and she had unmuted the damn thing to hear when Severine would call, but now she keeps bombarding her with first date advice Alex wants to ignore but can’t with the repeated pinging.

She smiles at Tom as he opens the car door for her and he frowns at her apparent nervousness. He’s been looking forward to this moment all day and realizes belatedly that what is a tried and tested comfort zone for him is quit uncharted territory for her. He tries to distract her with questions about Greek theatre tradition and she tries hard to suppress the slight but constant trembling of her hands. Finally, he gently envelopes her fidgety fingers in his right palm, she looks down at the point of connection, then up at him as he smiles reassuringly and squeezes her hand. She exhales, nods.

“I meant to tell you, we received raving reviews for the translation, especially the _‘delicate understanding of the ambiguity of the female deity’_ was noted by the Baronetess.”

Tom adjusts his glasses with his left hand to unsuccessfully hide a proud grin. The car arrives at a theatre entrance she doesn’t know, and they are led into a separate room away from the crowd waiting to be let into the stalls.

“This is a special lounge for members, if you will. I’ll get us a glass of champagne, if you’d like?”

Alex nods and Tom goes to the bar where he is greeted, enthusiastically, affectionately, by a couple that also just came in. Both are attractive and very much in love, judging by the looks they give each other. He brings them over, together with the champagne.

“Alex meet my friends Kai and Ben, friends, this is Alex.”

The couple smiles and they shake hands, and she can’t help but notice that they apparently color coordinated their outfits. They chat for a while and shortly before they finally go in inside, they are joined by some more people Tom introduces as friends as well.

They all take their seats in a quickly prearranged order in the already darkened auditorium as last arrivals. This is rather embarrassing to Alex who likes to be there first, to not inconvenience others by having to ask them to get up so she can take her seat, especially not last minute. Tom had quietly whispered in her ear that it’s easier to have a “buffer” while he makes sure that both Ben and he are situated between herself and Kai. Whatever he means by that is unclear to Alex, but she cannot clarify as the play begins.

She is immediately held captive by the story, as well as the clever stage design that pulls her in and makes her forget where she is. The interval catches her as a surprise, and she needs a moment to return her mind into her seat. The group makes their way back to the “lounge” and Alex questions Tom about the seating arrangement. He is embarrassed.

“It doesn’t normally bother me when people recognize me, but on days like this, when I’d rather focus on my companion, it’s just more enjoyable for all involved when we make sure that I, or Ben for that matter, are, let’s say, not as easily accessible.” 

“You mean we are your human shields? Your friends have weird duties, I must say.” She sips at the second glass of champagne. Tom is very attentive and wants to know her every thought so far about the play, but even though she loves the experience, she cannot help but wonder what she is doing here. She can see people watching them from the corner if their eyes, politely ignoring their little group of six but she can still tell they are talking about them. His friends are lovely and she feels included in their circle. And still.

Alex spent all day pondering about her unprecedented show of courage last night. She knows that she’d love to have Tom in her life, even if she is not sure in what capacity exactly, but her life now suddenly feels a million miles away from his - with the champagne and the ogling - and she doesn’t know how to bridge the divide. He seems to sense her mood and becomes quiet himself.

The second half of the play starts and at the end leaves her breathless, dry eyed outwardly but dissolved into saltwater inside. The audience is on their feet, clapping and cheering at the cast. Alex looks over at Tom and asks, “Is this what you love about your job?”

And she means the unbelievable impact the joined experience had on the audience but can tell he is astonished and doesn’t answer. It’s noisy in the auditorium as the masses move towards the exits, so no conversation takes place until they say goodbye to the two couples, and are taken back out the same special entrance, where the car is waiting to shuttle them to dinner.

When the driver closes the partition to the back, Tom states after a moment, “No, that is not what I love about acting. The cheers. I actually learned to question some of it. Of course, I enjoy being appreciated, when what I do brings joy to an audience, but there is a difference between sharing part of yourself - and being owned by the world. Or the perception of it, anyway.

“I’m sorry. I’ve clearly offended you and I didn’t mean to.”

He takes her hand again in his and looks at her fingers disappearing in his tender grasp.

“No offense taken. You just made me question myself for a moment with that guileless way of yours, your outside-in view on things which I let become normal to me - and which actually aren’t. I love my job, you asked about that, but I don’t do it for the cheers, the recognition. It’s a thrill, for sure, especially in front of a life audience, but I don’t get to do this so much anymore. Most of the job in the last while was in front of a green screen, imagining things that will be added months later.”

He is thoughtful for a moment, and silent.

“Ben and I go way back, we remained friends maybe also _because_ we have similar experiences, our lives are very different from what they used to be. Normal is a word that hasn’t applied to our surrounding in a long time.”

He kisses the back of her hand, then gently lets it go.

“I understand if that isn’t something you are interested in. I envy your serene life of books and languages and sincerity.”

She sees his words as what they are meant. A way out, even a gentle goodbye. Turns out the question was never whether he could be part of her life, but rather whether _she_ could keep up with his. It seems she has been weighed and found wanting.

The car stops, she doesn’t even know where, and starts to get up, but Tom looks at her very intently.

“I would like to get this over with and out of the way, if you don’t mind.”

Alex looks back at him, in astonishment at the unexpected abruptness.

He comes closer and carefully, slowly takes her face in his hands, leans in… _to kiss her_ , she realizes. He checks her eyes before his lips make contact and she is still rigid in surprise when he leans back again. When he lets go of her face, she takes his hands and holds them again against her cheeks.

“… over and out of the way?” she questions.

“Yes, the kiss is the pain in every first date, don’t you think? Since yesterday was only rehearsal I really tried to wait. Patience is not my strong suit. Now we can enjoy dinner.”

Tom helps her out of the car and gently guides her; his hand on her lower back gives her goosebumps. The restaurant is dimly lit and quiet this late in the evening, except for some classical music faintly playing in the background. They are led to a table secluded from the rest and the candle on it just completes every cliché she can think of for a date.

They enjoy the starter in silence, and Alex reflects on how comfortable she is without having to fill it. How comfortable she is with Tom. Because or despite of the kiss, she couldn’t tell. She is sitting in a cloud of unrealness and Tom seems to be absolutely happy with simply holding her hand laying on the starched table cloth, while they drink wine, which she thinks she recognizes from the night at his place. His thumb strokes the top of her left hand and she cannot stop staring at the movement. Her mouth is dry, she keeps sipping water, wanting to avoid getting tipsy and cannot think of a single intelligent thing to say. And that is somehow okay. But she tries anyway.

“It was interesting meeting your friends. Especially Kai. Do you know where her name stems from?”

Tom looks at her questioningly. “I have no idea, never asked her. I suppose it is short for something? Why do you ask?”

“One of the simplest particles, still in use in modern Greek, is _καί_ , a conjunction meaning ‘ _and_ ’’.” Alex looks at some motion behind his shoulder before focusing back on Tom. ”It can also have an emphasis which at times can be difficult to translate. ‘ _Τι_ _καί’_ , in polite terms, can mean ‘ _What on earth?”_ or, in stronger ones, ‘ _What the fuck_?’ “

Tom laughs. Hard. And finally clarifies: “That describes her perfectly. I need to watch Ben when you explain that the next time we see them.”

Alex distantly notes how naturally, unquestioningly, she accepts this comment, not as possibility but matter of fact plan. Is that wise?

Tom gentle brings her back to their shared theater experience.

“I loved how the writers interwove the theme of family with having to let go of … expectations. You seemed quite taken with it, more than I would have anticipated.” Alex nods, and Tom continues.” I mean, it was a brilliant piece, but you seemed exceptionally moved. To tears, almost?”

“Yes, it touched very close to home for me.” Alex frowns. “I had a revealing moment, an epiphany if you like, with my dad just this Sunday. Nothing like in the play, very different as a matter of fact. I think however without it I wouldn’t have texted you back that night.”

Tom slightly tilts his head encouragingly. The rough skin texture of his fingers caressing the sensitive back of her hand grounds her and she doesn’t question her need to share with him, for any other reason than that he cares. 

“Arthur, my father, is suffering from dementia, he lives in a nursing home and I visit with him every Sunday.” Tom wants to say something to that, but she motions that it’s not necessary. “I have come to terms with it, I mean, to having him not recognize me or remember. That he is lost to me now too, in a way… That this is our reality. Or I thought at least that I knew, what the reality was. Our past, the memories. But as they also say, perception is reality. And I had a huge change of my perception that day.”

She takes a sip of water.

“My parents were the perfect couple, the fairy tale dream of true love and perfect happiness… or, well, at least what it seemed to me like as a child. I built up something in my head, fueled by mythology of Aphrodite and magic potions. Of destiny and clarity. You should read the letters they wrote to each other. Old Byron would faint in envy. They knew from the moment they met that they belonged together.”

She smiles at the fond memories.

“I remember listening to their laughter in the kitchen when I was already in bed as a child, their whispering interrupted by silence caused by kisses, I assume.”

Tom carefully asks, “But…?”

“No but, really, except for my mother dying. They were so happy with each other and I felt their love - and included in it. Always.”

“So, no one could ever measure up?” Alex is astonished by Tom’s observation. His immediate understanding. “You mentioned your perception, so what was wrong with the assumption?” He doesn’t sound judgmental, just curious.

“I had believed myself an expert, that I would get it right the first time, like they did. And when I met Martin, when I was not capable …” Tom grips her hand suddenly uncomfortably tight and she stops that train of thought. _Not now._ “I mean, I thought I knew how it was supposed to go, and when it didn't with him, I was at a loss. And did I mention I do not like feeling stupid.” She smiles self deprecatingly.

The waiters appear with their meal. They are quiet for a moment while being served, the food fragrance between them enticing but somehow neither is hungry for what they ordered right now.

“During my visit on Sunday, my dad unexpectedly opened my eyes to the fact that I don’t have to. Have the answers, I mean. And that I can trust my emotions - impalpable as they may seem compared to the printed words and known facts. That trying again is not a sign of defeat. That the leap of faith is required before earning or receiving trust and ...” she stops at what she almost said, and is surprised when Tom flawlessly finishes her sentence, “… and love?”

“Yes. I think.”

They start to eat, both digesting what has just been put on the table metaphorically, and yet much more solid than anything else on the white tablecloth. They take their time. Again the silence is like a space made just for them to relax into.

“My parents have been divorced since my early childhood. I have two nosy sisters with no stable partners. I had, as you might have gathered from my stories the other night, several relationships, all serious to a point but not heartbreakingly so. The kind of love you seem to have witnessed, it sounds a bit like a ... fantasy to me.” He quickly assures her,” I don’t mean that I don’t believe what you describe. More that I was searching for it actually, without ever having seen it first-hand. I _hoped_ it existed, but unlike you, for the longest time I had no first-hand proof it did. And maybe I wouldn’t have bothered with the second-hand thing all the while, if maybe like you, I had seen it with my own eyes. Maybe I would have only accepted the perfect offering as well – and nothing else.”

Alex exhales and swallows dry. He gets it, she realizes, he isn’t expecting her to know the answers, to get things right and be perfect all the time - and moreover, tells her he would have done the same.

“So, we are looking at the same matter from different angles, you say - we want the same thing?”

Tom nods seriously, stating, “Dessert, you mean?”

She cannot believe the boyish glee radiating from his smile and shakes her head at his carefree laughter.

He moves the empty plates to the side and takes her hands over the table.

“We do this, together, okay? _This_ is just us, you and me and we try, we give this… thing, let’s not even name it, a chance, yes?”

“Yes.” She beams at him.

“You educate me on what you know and I teach you what I know – we learn together as we go, agreed?”

“Agreed.”

Alex feels they are on even footing now, both having and lacking experience, both trusting the other to lead where necessary. She can make this work. She hopes. Prays.

When she drifts off to sleep later, her phone, unusually placed on her nightstand instead of buried in her purse, lights up with a message. She expects it to be Severine commenting for the 4th time on how excited she is about the first date. But no.

_‘Should I have asked permission to kiss you, not taken you by surprise?’_

_‘No.’_ she replies _. ‘What you should have done, is to come upstairs with me._ ’

## 23:29 GMT

_It is the mark of an educated man to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it._

_—_ Aristotle

Tom had dropped Alex off at her flat and was now by himself in the back of the smoothly moving car, deep in thought as the dark city whizzed by on the way home.

They had agreed Alex would come to his place after work tomorrow, for dinner again. The after-dinner situation had not been mentioned but he knew what he imagined, hoped would happen. Needed to happen, honestly, even though he had given himself a stern talk about being patient. Their conversation tonight had made it even more clear to him that his usual approach would not do. The farewell kiss initiated by Alex had been tender but cautious. She was understandably hesitant after the fucked-up relationship on the one hand (whether it was one year ago or ten didn’t really matter, did it) and the romantic but unrealistic expectations modeled by her parents on the other.

The more he knew her, the more he appreciated her bravado last night. Alex seemed absolutely willing to give this, him, a chance, and Tom was giddy with excitement. And horny. Yes, that as well. When they had talked, he had caressed her not just with his fingers on her hands but his eyes over her face and neck and shoulders and he could still taste her astonished lips from the short moment their mouths had touched in the car, hers still slightly open in surprise, which he hadn’t anticipated and all the more enjoyed.

He unconsciously touched his lips, imagining to still feel hers on them as they had said good bye. In a sense he couldn’t believe that they had made it that far in such a relatively short time, and at the same time it felt like an eternity to finally arrive at this milestone. He chuckled silently. Who knew he could get still so excited by a kiss. The unusual restraint - for him anyways - the anticipation, it made him tingle and appreciate proverbs about long waits and high rewards in a new light. It hadn’t been a lie when he said he didn’t care how long ago her last relationship was, or her last physical experience. He did care for _her_ , and he wanted her whenever she was willing to have him. After tonight he was encouraged that they would get there. Maybe not in the next days, but soon enough.

However.

Tom pondered for a while and admitted to himself, he could not fully comprehend it. How was such a thing possible. How could she not have been missing something. Not the lack of a committed relationship. That was almost easy. But the living without sex part. Tom was empathetic, yes, and he tried hard to not be judgmental in most situations, was aware that the need for sex, for physical intimacy, was different for every person. While essential to him, other people were maybe less needy of gratification, the thrill of a climax, the high of touch and feel, during the unity of bodies. And libido like sexual orientation was a thing of a million shades of grey, no pun intended.

Still.

Ten years?

He imagined, the time caring for her father didn’t leave much space for romance, but still. It seemed an eternity to him that she had not been seeking any of what he, if he were really frank with himself, hardly could go without for more than a few weeks. What he hadn’t needed or wanted to be without, from the moment he discovered sex with a woman at the age of 16. Carnal desire was simply part of his life, the joy of a grey day and the pleasure of a sunny one. Simple as that. Not the only thing great about a relationship. But definitely not the last thing on the list.

As he recalled last weeks musings about her drawing a line in the sand, it was much clearer now why she indeed had not only protected but almost isolated herself so fiercely. It made more sense now, her distance back then. Not for the first time, he felt strongly the responsibility to do right by her. She deserved all the things she had talked about tonight, the things he felt she yearned for that were left unsaid. He wanted to give that to her, more so, wanted it for himself, like in an old-fashioned movie. He. Wanted. Her.

But this wasn’t a Hollywood tale, that was him, and he was too aware of his reality, of being only a frail human after all. On the surface he had years of experience that she didn’t, physically, but that was superficial, and when looked at closely, wasn’t he even more a stranger to a _real_ partnership then she was?

The car stopped. He heard Toby barking madly as he approached the door and he checked his phone. Messages from concerned (aka interfering) friends and family. Well, unfortunately this wasn’t something that could be solved by talking with third parties. He sent a short text to Alex and ached at her playful reply. A hot shower took care of certain parts of his problem, the main one however stayed with him during the night.


	10. Wednesday, April 22

## 07:53 GTM

_Of this alone, even god is deprived, the power of making things that are past never to have been._

_— Agathon_

Tom had purposely not set an alarm but was woken by his phone, nonetheless.

“I could blame Kai but I’m man enough to admit I am dying to know how your date ended.”

“It’s not even eight in the morning, Ben.” Tom didn’t try to keep his voice polite.

“Yes, that is correct. My wife refused morning sex on the grounds of some bogus crucial meeting with the world food bank or something similarly, ridiculously important, so I find myself with some time on my hands until lunch. Spill.”

“It’s not even eight.” Tom repeated, but already resigned.

“And your point is?”

“You pay for breakfast. At that place with the bread. Starting next week, I can’t have any until the end of summer.”

“Sure. It’s your funeral. They love you there. Bring some pictures to sign, last time they ran out of napkins.” Tom hung up in the middle of Ben’s gleeful exaggeration and buried his face in the pillows. He had let Toby out in the back at six and had hoped for a sleep-in after. With a sigh he got up and realized that laundry was moving up on his list of things to do rather soon. Or maybe he needed to by some new clothes.

“I cannot believe they let Toby inside the restaurant.” Ben shook his head in pretend dismay.

“He is well behaved and quiet under the table, like your wife taught us, why are you complaining?”

“The special treatment some people get… Ouch!” Tom kicked Ben’s shin with the foot that was not tucked under Toby’s relaxed body. Ben grinned and they ordered. They had indeed gotten special treatment, with a booth that was as secluded as possible and could hide Toby, plus the immediate placement of a big basket full of a selection of warm baked goods.

“Alex looked very pretty last night, I must say. Unfortunately, you didn’t leave her side for a moment or let me talk to her for more than 5 seconds. A very interesting sign, such protectiveness, this early on.”

Tom held his tongue. What to say. What not to say. Was it a breach in confidentiality to share what Alex had told him? Or to be more precise, a breaking of her trust, to discuss her vulnerability with a friend - a well-meaning and nosy, but reliable friend? And why had he never before felt this strong surge of jealousy at only a hint of teasing?

He wasn’t aware that all this showed on his face and made Ben sober up from his mocking mood.

“Is everything all right mate?”

“Yes, fine. It’s just not as easy as it presented itself when we last spoke about her.”

“She is married after all? Gay? Crazy?”

“No.” Tom rubbed his face in frustration. “She is wonderful. And complex. And the situation is maybe a bit more complicated than anticipated.”

“Yes, I got that much from your face. So, what is it?”

“It’s actually two things. One, she grew up witnessing the fairy tale love of her parents – until she lost her mother at the age of 14. And two, she hasn’t been in a relationship in some time.”

“Okay. So, she’s cautious and has high expectations. Not _so_ terrible. You can work with that, no?”

“I not only can but want to… and at the same time I don’t _just_ want to make it work. She deserves the best and I’m afraid of fucking it up. You know me.”

“I do indeed; a perfectionist in all things. But most importantly, I know you would never willfully hurt her. Did you go home with her after dinner?”

“I dropped her off at her place, and she texted me, after, that I should have gone up with her.”

“Well, why didn’t you?”

“She…”Tom stops. “I told you she hadn’t been with someone in quite a while. Quite a substantial while, actually.”

Ben picked the hint up and squinted, “How long a while?”

“Ten years?”

“Bloody hell! What? Why? A woman as enticing as…"

“What does that have to do with anything?” Tom interrupted him, sounding angry, but trying to keep his voice down. “Being pretty does not mean she is obliged to have someone take her or that someone is entitled to.”

“Tom, mate, calm down, you know that’s not what I meant. It’s just unusual; I mean, ten years?”

“Yes, I know.” Tom deflated and sighed. “I just hate that this is the first reaction _you_ have, and that _she_ feels like she needs to explain this, and to be honest I hate that _I_ had the same thoughts when she told me.” He is quiet for a moment, recalling the night before last. “She doesn’t owe me, or anyone an explanation or reason and yet she tried. It was hard for her to get the words out; she was stoic and nervous, as though she expected me to say something along the lines of _‘thank you ma’am, not interested anymore’_ . As if that would be even a possibility. Can you believe it?”

He took his glasses off, put them on the table and rubbed his eyes frustratedly. “Why would she pick me, after all this time, with all of the options out there? I am so going to fuck this up…”

Ben shook his head and considered.

“Let’s stay on track here. What did she say was the reason for the abstinence? Any horrible experiences? Terrible exes?”

“Of course. Some prick at uni. Cheating idiot. And before you say it, yes, I am also suspecting that that isn’t the whole story. When we talked, I felt she was convinced it was the right thing to do, the only thing to do - to stay away from even just a one night stand, that it was better for her to not start a relationship ever again. There is a resignation in her sometimes that puzzles me. That dickhead really did a number on her.”

The food arrived but Tom just kept poking at it.

“We had a very interesting dinner after the play. I mean, not the food but the conversation. You know, I always thought you and Kai are among the few lucky ones, and it seems her parents had that same thing, whatever it is. And just like you are spoiling me for the ladies by living or rather _dangling_ the dream right in front of me, she had that with them. It seems she is the type to know exactly what she wants and won’t accept anything less.”

“Well, a woman who knows what she wants is a good thing, I’ve always thought. And it seems luckily, she wants you. That means something, if she’s not let anyone else get this close to her in so long.”

“I hope so and yet, I still feel off balance. Something is just _off_.”

“Any chance your _off_ feeling has something to do with you not being able to fuck your way to her heart immediately? Excuse my French but that is what you do, usually. “

Tom dropped his fork and looked appalled at his supposed best friend, who kept going despite of it.

“I can only recall one time where you didn’t sleep with the woman de jour within the first week, and that was because Kai would have had your balls if you tried it with her best friend.”

“You make it sound like I am only after sex. Do you know me at all?”

“I do. And you are.” Ben held up his hand to still Tom’s outrage, “Let me finish. You are, because that is your way to seal the deal, to confirm your feelings. You’ve always been like that. Not to take advantage but to _verify_. You see them, you fall for them and then you bed them to test yourself, to confirm, or whatever it is you need to find - besides the obvious, I mean. And what’s wrong with that? You don’t drop them after, I’ve seen you in love with some and treat _all_ of them with respect and care, no matter how serious your feelings in the end. All I’m saying is that without the physical side you can’t make up your mind, commit, it seems.”

Tom knew the truth of those words, at least in part, and he knew Ben meant well by stating it but he still felt defensive.

“Yes, I need to touch and feel and lose myself to know, deep down it’s true. And yes, maybe I feel a bit blind without this option on the table, or at least not as easily obtainable as usual.” He tore off a piece of bread but dropped it on his plate. “You of all people should understand that with all the pretending around feelings, with having to constantly drag up emotions to make something real for an audience, I only truly trust myself when it all comes together - which is during sex, ultimately. The real thing, no one looking on. When it’s just the two of us.”

“I know.” Ben smiled, but it was a sad one. “Just, this is different now, isn’t it? She is different. Not someone you met on set, or at a party. This is real. You’re going to have to be patient, let her set the pace, play by other rules. And I think that might actually be a good thing.”

They finished breakfast in thoughtful silence and left the restaurant, hugged goodbye.

“Women. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.” Ben beeped the car open.

“You’re just miffed you didn’t get any this morning.”

Ben chuckled, “Ah well, in fairness, she didn’t even know I was up for it. I woke and her side of the bed was already empty. The next best thing, I guess, was calling you and hoping for a bit of second-hand smoke from your sex life.”

“You mean the lack thereof.”

“Yeah, you used to be a much better source.”

Ben started to drive off but stopped again, lowering his window. “You’ll drop Toby off on Saturday before you head to the airport? Kai just texted me to let you know that he doesn’t need a bed, she apparently just bought him one. As well as… shampoo.” The two of them exchanged a look that needed no further comment. Toby barked at Ben honking as he drove off. The long walk home gave Tom some time to think but no real answers. 

The day passed with calls, e-mails, and more travel arrangements for the next few weeks. His down time was almost over - for now, though, he would be enjoying dinner, getting to know Alex better. Peeling off some more layers, if not proverbial, at least emotional, as he was committed to giving her the time and room she needed to decide when the time was right to _literally_ get to know each other better. 

Which might already be tonight, he concluded as he let her in shortly after seven.

“I see you brought a bag.”

Alex nodded, full of determination, kissed him lingeringly then passed Tom as he closed the door. After adjusting himself, he followed her.

“However, I’m afraid I must let you know my guest bedroom is currently just that. A room. No bed.” Tom clarified at her back.

“Oh. That is… unfortunate.” She turned.

“Yes.” He nodded solemnly, ”And no - I am not offering mine. I have standards, you know. No sharing bed linens before the third date.”

He saw her relief at the carefree statement, and also, her embarrassment at realizing he was aware of it.

“That depends on how you are counting, I guess.”

Tom was positively surprised at her mischievous tone. It did not however, match the look in her eyes. His head was spinning from the conflicting messages he received as he went into the kitchen, where the takeout pizza he’d ordered at her request, was waiting in the oven. He set the table as Alex went to wash her hands. Toby inhaled his dinner in what must have been a new record time and demanded to be let out into the small yard, the squirrel still not defeated, it seemed. While he looked for napkins that should be around somewhere on the top shelf, his arms stretched out above his head, Alex caught him by surprise, stepping up behind and embracing him tightly around his midriff. She leaned her warm cheek against his back, stilling him in his movement. It was sweet and provocative at the same time. Once again a conflicting message he was not ready for, so he held his breath as she spoke.

“I really appreciate your patience. And your understanding.”

He stood still, feeling cool fingers at his chest, and heat raising in him absurdly fast.

“Of course.” His voice sounded stilted even to him and matched his rigid pose, his arms lowered now but not sure what to do with them. The idea had been to follow her lead. So, was that gesture the overture to filling a sudden hunger not related to pizza or rather simply her first step to physically connecting?

Alex moved her hands down from his chest to his waist and Tom intensely registered the pressure from her pelvis at his back, his fingers itched to reach back and touch her, and he made up his mind - this was just too absurd, to question himself so critically.

Tom turned in her arms, she let go - not stepping back, just giving him room - and when he placed his hands on her lower back pressing her against his front, when they stood face to face, she looked up at him with heavily lidded eyes and a slow smile. She proceeded to go up on her toes and kissed him tentatively, maybe a bit questioningly. Tom finally woke from his trance and answered enthusiastically, taking the lead, the strong feeling of triumph and relief spurring him on. If this was where she wanted to go, he would follow happily. If she wanted to _get to know him better_ who was he to refuse her? His hands moved down her rear and drew her closer abruptly; his lips, first just touching lightly and tasting carefully, became more dominant and his tongue seduced her into a low sigh, into accepting a part of him into her for the first time.

Bending his knees, he moved his hands further down the back of her thighs and a moment later lifted her effortlessly. Instinctively Alex wrapped her legs around him, and he moved them blindly towards the couch while her hands sunk into his hair and held on. And she kept kissing him. Deeply.

Tom had no idea how he made it to the couch, but he sat down with Alex on his lap and kept stroking, touching, searching for skin, enjoying every bit he found and even more so her weight on him, the pressure, the friction. This was coming about so fast, he had no time to question, only to experience and hang on as he was swept away by a sense of ‘ _finally’_ and ‘ _more’._

He was dimly aware of approaching the point of no return way too rapidly and tried to reason with himself as he felt her hand at the buttons of his jeans and the skin of his stomach. This was a bit fast after all, no? And not just fast, really, but insane, he had wanted to take his time… but while his hands stilled on their way down the back of her trousers, sensing some lacy material, his attempt at speech was stopped by her biting his earlobe and he abruptly gave himself over, dropping his head to her shoulder in submission, leaning in, as she found him. He moaned deeply. No real space for movement in the confinement of the denim material, but the anticipation of what he had seen in his mind just last night in the shower, happening now for real, her hot breath at his neck, the fingers of her one hand pulling at his scalp, the other fitting around him like a glove – it was just too easy to surrender into what she offered. And so, he did. Simply gave himself over, into her sweet hand, and held on to her body tightly as he climaxed. He squeezed the soft skin of her buttocks while pulling her towards where the heat of their cores met and instinctively pushed his hips forward in tiny helpless movements, met by her body weight.

Bliss.

Time stood still for a moment and as always, started again in the next. He opened his eyes and felt the grin on his face, the ridiculous happiness at the ridiculous act that just had occurred. Tom inhaled deeply at Alex’s scent at her neck, her hair, and placed a tender kiss at the skin under his lips.

“Wow.” He begun to sort his uncoordinated limbs, regain feeling in his toes and continued with a rough voice. “That was…wow.”

He leaned back, all energy drained and started searching for her gaze, hidden by her hair falling messily into her face but also by her own closed eye lids. She was breathing heavily through her open mouth and he wanted nothing more than to return the pleasure he had just experienced. He brushed some silky strands from her heated brow, brought her lips to his own, holding her head in his slightly shaking hands as he rained tiny kisses accompanied by endearments on her skin and set out to touch her breast and stomach, whispered her name, “Alex, tell me, what can I do for you, what do you want?”

The feeling of tenderness coursing through his body was not new to him however foreign in this exact situation. Usually the orgasm brought him into a lazy, if not comatose state. That was why he tried to make sure he came after his partner, but he wanted to give her the same ecstasy now, wanted to witness her climb and take the peak. It wasn’t enough to be sated, the last piece missing was her joining him at the idle shores of paradise.

“Tell me, what do you need?” He almost begged against her lips.

Alex swallowed dry and finally opened her glassy eyes, looking at him shyly. Her face seemed feverish, but she didn’t give him time to observe closer as she started kissing him in return and then buried her face in his chest, her head bumping up against his chin, almost like a cat, pushing him back and all but pressing him into the seat with desperate force. Her breathless voice sounded heavenly to Tom in his joyful daze.

“Just hold me, please?”

Still on his lap, her knees bracketed his hips, her arms were now folded between them, fingers firmly grasping the material of his shirt, hooked in the space between the buttons, her cool fingertips touching his skin. He couldn’t see her face, only the top of her head but he could feel her hot breath on the skin that was exposed at his collar opening, sending shivers down his waning body. She was holding on so tight, any closer and she would be crawling inside his skin. And in that moment, he would have let her, wanted her to stay like this forever, with every fiber glued to him and never leaving.

Tom tightened his hold when he felt her slight tremble in his arms.

“Just like this, this is perfect,” she exhaled and snuggled closer, even though it shouldn’t have been possible. 

He kissed the top of her head and tried again to convey some kind of quid pro quo, not as some poor attempt at repayment but as humble offering to her divinity.

“That was maybe not my best performance. You didn’t…”, she shushed him with a finger to his lips, and for the first time since they’d left the kitchen, really returned his gaze. Well, since he had basically thrown her over his shoulder and carried her off like a caveman his treasure, and that thought resonated in him with a hot possessiveness that should have been shocking but wasn’t.

“I am feeling wonderful right where I am, right now.” The tip of her tongue wet her dry lips. “Are you not?”

“I am absolutely blissed out, but this was just me and now it’s your turn. I do believe in equality, you know.” He smiled wickedly and again started peppering her face and neck with butterfly touches of his tingling lips while trying to lift her to the side so he could lay her on her back and start his feast, but she held on to his shoulders and resisted.

“There is no need for that right now, please believe me, I am great, absolutely perfect. Can’t we just sit here and... glow for a moment?” She caressed his face and her eyes were so full of warmth he was mesmerized, her pleading tone disarming.

“I made you glow?”

“You did. You do.” She smiled tenderly.

“Well, then we’ll call this the warmup and continue after a short intermission.”

“Ever the performer,” Alex teased, relaxing into him once more, but a few moments later suddenly drew away.

“You must be uncomfortable. Maybe you want to take a shower?”

“Yes, I should clean up.“ He grinned but gave into the need to hold on to her further nonetheless and resumed kissing her just because he could. He was bewildered at the desire to continue to lavish her with tenderness. It was like the need to touch was stimulated by his completion not sated by it.

Eventually, Alex climbed off him and he moved mainly on autopilot into his bathroom. But once he put on fresh pants and jeans his brain booted up again; he went back and found her in the kitchen, humming along with the music, still looking for the napkins. This time he embraced her from behind and whispered into her ear, “I’m somehow not so hungry anymore… well, not for pizza.”

“Well, I am, and I’m your guest so you owe me at least a meal, I would say.” She tried for a stern tone and Tom wanted to reply something saucy but was interrupted by Toby, demanding entrance from the outside, barking and putting his front paws against the glass door leaving dirty smears, so Tom let go of her, but only for a moment.

“Tell me what you would like me to do for you after I pay my debt in pizza.“

The moment Toby was inside Tom turned back and cornered Alex against the countertop, his lips searching for hers, his hands spanning her waist, moving his already again touch starved fingers up her shirt, finding her warm skin and conquering as much as he could. For a moment it seemed she was frozen by his determination but came back to herself after a second and pushed at him, laughing.

“Behave yourself. I want pizza first. Dessert is after.”

“We are grown-ups, we can have dessert any time we want,” he growled playfully but when Alex didn’t react to that, he took a mental step back, especially when seeing her expression as she replied in a rather soft tone.

“I am a bit… nervous,” she admitted and for a moment she appeared almost uncomfortable. “I hope it’s okay if we slow down a bit maybe?”

Tom looked remorseful while actually feeling embarrassed.

“I realize that was rather… fast back there.” He nodded towards the couch. “We will do whatever you want, _whenever_ you want. No rush.”

Alex looked searchingly into his eyes, and finally leaned up to kiss him, deeply, longingly, and he was only aware that he was again crowding her up against the refrigerator this time when she pushed at him gently, but insistently.

“God, I’m sorry, I am an insensitive prick. We’ll take it slow. You call the shots.” He couldn’t help himself and kissed her nose. “Not that you haven’t already done so, but you know what I mean.”

Before Alex could reply, her stomach answered for her and growled, repeatedly. She shrugged her shoulders and giggled as Tom, in defeat backed up without comment, sat down at the table, and inhaled much more than only half of the food, not dissimilar to the way his dog had done not too long ago.

“Do you also have the feeling he avoids looking at you?”, Alex asked when they had finished eating and cleaned the table.

She had been quiet during the meal but, to use her word from earlier on, at the same time contentedly _glowing_ , smiling at him while Tom had been holding up most of the conversation. It wasn’t like she didn’t contribute, she laughed at his jokes and grinned at his banter. However, she was muted somehow, and now the question out of nowhere baffled him out of his musings on how difficult this must be for her, the sexual tension in the air but presumably - and understandably - feeling a bit, if not anxious, then at least cautious after such a long time of non-engagement. While filling the dishwasher he had been weighing his options on how to take her out of her mind, envisioned some sensual ways to calm her, so he not only sounded but was confused at her enquiry.

“Who, avoids looking… you mean Toby? Why?” He was finishing off his glass of water before putting it in the machine.

“I don’t know, but…do you suppose he…saw what I…?”

Tom choked and started to laugh, relieved somehow. Alex though didn’t seem to think it funny, still looking in the direction of Toby, who indeed had ignored them during their meal, more or less. Tom held out his hand in invitation to her and then took her into his arms, swaying a bit with the music playing in the background.

“He is very young and needs to learn that certain games are not for him to join. Someone mentioned, setting boundaries is important.” He lifted his eyebrows, kissed her lightly and murmured suggestively, “Also, he is just a dog, Alex, he thought we were playing. He has no idea and it will not harm his tiny puppy brain to have witnessed how you blew my mind.”

She looked away bashfully as he said that and not even trying to be sneaky about it, he moved them towards the stairs up to his bedroom. “And speaking of…”

Alex untangled herself from his grasp and motioned toward the direction of the guest bathroom, “I put my things in there earlier so I will use it for now, if that’s okay?”

“Sure, though you are welcome to mine.”

“No, I think some things should not taint the first sleep over.”

Her tone made it clear she was joking but firm on the subject no less. He lifted her chin with a finger to make sure to see directly in her eyes, but before he could say anything she coyly smiled.

“As I said, I might be a bit anxious, but everything is okay, yeah? I just need a minute to myself.”

She kissed him quickly, closed the door and they both used a bathroom to get ready for the night. Tom was faster and waiting in bed when Alex tentatively joined him in his room. He patted the empty space beside him encouragingly and raised a questioning eyebrow at her hesitance. He caught her staring at his naked chest and understood belatedly that what was normal to him might not be quite as ordinary for her.

“Would you prefer I put on a shirt?”

“No, no. It’s fine.” With her back to Tom, Alex sat down at the edge of the bed, took the glasses off her nose, folded them slowly and placed them on the nightstand. She sounded uncertain, and, he couldn’t be fully sure without seeing her face, a bit strained, as she said, “Would you terribly mind if we were to just… go to sleep now? I am more tired then I thought and there is no rush, right?“

He caressed her back reassuringly and she finally turned around to look at him over her shoulder.

“Of course not. And I am not just saying that because _I_ already got my dessert.” He grinned cheekily and then with the smile she had begun to think of as, _the saintly one_ , scooted back to his side of the bed, inviting her to join him under the covers.

Her hair was braided, the thin material of her sleep wear clung to her skin, he could smell minty toothpaste as she made herself comfortable and switched the lamp on her side off. Next, she rolled to her right, her head on the pillow, hands folded as if in prayer under her cheek. The situation was oddly domestic in its simplicity and he leaned over to stroke her face reverently. Tom couldn’t get enough of the feel of her warm skin as he traced the bridge of her nose, her lips, around her ears. It didn’t surprise him that Alex was cautious even thought it did amaze him _he_ was in no rush either. There was no hurry. Yes, he was absolutely yearning for more but at the same time enjoying the anticipation.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

“What for this time?” She whispered back.

“Do you really have to ask?”

Alex grinned in the dim light from his bedside lamp and Tom shook his head in disbelief as he kissed her achingly slow, savoring the moment before pulling back hesitantly.

“I’ll set the alarm for 8:00, is that okay? That way we can have breakfast together before you head over to the store?”

“Sounds heavenly… I usually need to leave the house at least one hour earlier. And without breakfast.”

Tom switched off the light and Alex snuggled into his arms. Her hair tickled his chest teasingly and he felt the warm tingle of her breath close to his collar bone as she relaxed pliant and warm in his embrace. Surprisingly, his body agreed to shut off almost immediately, which after the satisfying workout it had gotten a bit earlier was maybe not such a surprise after all. He sighed and meant to kiss her good night one last time but was already pulled under by sleep the next moment.


	11. Thursday, April 23

## 01:50 GMT

_Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth._

_—_ Marcus Aurelius

She dreams.

Or rather relives the previous evening, like a strange picture show starring her puppet-like self. She watches as she walks into the house, feeling a peculiar disassociation from her body, as she comes into the kitchen, embraces him, and is carried off in what should be a demeaning but is somehow an embarrassingly flattering gesture.

She observes herself mercilessly using every little manoeuvre known to her to drive him over the edge; feels yet again very intensely how he tries to reciprocate, to hang on to his control and still losing it spectacularly. The intensity and speed of the emotions, the forcefulness of the actions overwhelmed her then and are still not at all what she expected now. For the both of them.

But most shocking of all is the vulnerability she feels as she watches herself cling to him like a survivor of a tornado, her body and mind at total disagreement of what should happen next.

Dinner gives her some time to get her feet back under but when she observes herself standing in the bathroom looking at her wet face and wondering who that stranger in the mirror is, almost dropping her toothbrush at the intense shaking of her hands, she wants to shout for herself to run. To stop before the predestined crash that is about to hurt him - hurt her - occurs. And still, for what felt like the hundredth time that evening she had not run, paralyzed by not knowing which of the many screaming voices in her mind to listen to.

Or to whom.

Heart or brain.

Alex wakes startled, not by the unaccustomed, and somehow until now not disturbing presence of another body besides her, but a low whine. Toby is standing next to the bed and in the dim light she thinks he looks concerned as he puts his front paws on the blanket.

“Hush, you will wake Tom,” she whispers slightly disoriented and tries to make room on her side, assuming Toby wants to join. But he just keeps pushing his nose at her knee that is closest to the side he stands on, and she realizes suddenly that her heart is hammering, and her hands are shaking. The dream is no more than a shadow, but the feelings it revived are not.

She senses Tom behind her moving and is aware of his warm body, his erection pushing at her back in an unconscious but very insistent way. She freezes. Toby whines again and she slowly untangles herself from Tom and silently leaves the room, a pillow under her arm, Toby trailing downstairs beside her. The couch is soft and the throw blanket warm, even without the dog rolling himself up at the hollow space left in front of her stomach as she lays on her side and listens to the unfamiliar tiny kitchen noises of the otherwise quiet house.

She will need to tell him. Everything in her argues against it but the single voice of reason, a voice very new to the choir, insists on trusting Tom, on telling him. Before he finds out anyways. Alex buries her hands in the soft fur next to her and counts the heartbeat under her fingers to distract herself. This is going to be a long sleepless night.

"Do I need to be concerned or amused that you are out here on the bloody couch?"

Gentle fingers trace her dry lips.

She bats them away like she would bees that circle a fresh pie - and is amazed at having fallen asleep after all. It takes her foggy brain a moment to process what he had drawled in a husky voice.

"What...?" is her attempt of an intelligent reply. Her nose twitches at the hint of breakfast smells from the kitchen.

"Well, no one ever complained so far, but something brought you down here... did I snore?"

"Really. Did no one else before me complain? Don’t tell me I am the first…”

"No, no, no ... not before breakfast, no. “, he interrupts. It sounds like he might be smiling. “I shall not be crucified for the loose and irresponsible life I lead before I met you, at least not on an empty stomach.”

Tom sits down on the coffee table and hands her the glasses he brought with him from the bedroom. As she restores her sight, she has to smile at Toby expectantly sitting in front of them, his tail bumping in excitement on the floor as he is panting.

“Did you get to Herbert, finally?” He barks in agreement.

“Well done, you! No squirrel shall be entering our kingdom ever again! ” She shakes the furry paw offered and then leans toward Tom who puts his arms around her and doesn’t seem to mind her unbrushed hair or teeth as he starts kissing her neck and up her face. After a moment he sighs and gets up.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to wake next to you. Did I really snore, because then we have a true problem. I love morning…cuddles.”

“No, you did not. I’m sorry, it was Toby that woke me, he was restless, and I just thought to sit with him for a moment and must have fallen asleep. Something smells delicious, what’s for breakfast?”, she asks as she walks towards the guest bedroom.

“Eggs, sunny side up?” he calls through the door that had closed almost in his face.

“Sure, I’ll be there in ten!” comes the muffled reply.

They eat and Tom pretends to be a gentleman, escorting her to the bookshop when it’s time for her to leave.

“Please say yes and stay over at mine again tonight?” he is nuzzling at her neck while she tries to unlock the door to Babylon. “Since you have tomorrow off, we could have a lie in, brunch later, watch a movie. I can postpone my calls to next week.” Alex sighs in frustration at the uncooperative door. “Come on, I know you packed smartly and brought a spare outfit - and if needs must, I could even endure you walking around without underwear.”

“Well, I appreciate the offer, but I think I am good on that front. You do get points though for turning my over preparedness into a compliment. And for not mentioning my proneness to dropping stain-y items on myself - which is the _real_ reason for bringing spare clothing.”, she emphasizes.

“You could never be clumsy,” he breathes at her mouth as she drops the keys for the third time. To make her point she raises her eyebrows and he steps back, full of regret but sensible.

“We could have lunch together later.”

She pushes him out the door he just stepped into.

“We talked about it, no. I will see you for dinner. Thank you.” And as at that exact moment a customer comes through the door she adds “We value your business. “

He turns and his ironic look makes her smile inwardly long after he is gone. She wants him to smile at her tonight and tomorrow and the day after. No matter what mood he’s in it seems there is always a smile for her. So many kinds – the ironic, the sardonic, a childish one, not to be confused with they the boyish one, the delighted one and the saintly one from last night… and then there is the one that brings butterflies to her stomach but makes her want to throw up at the same time. Makes her heart flutter in dread and her lips tingle in foreign anticipation - just thinking of him in those moments when all she can see is the depth of his eyes and feel the heat of his body, it throws her into panic, into the unknown. She really doesn’t want to see that smile fade the next time he gifts her with it.

She takes her phone out when the early afternoon lull after the lunch break crowd sets in.

“Meg.”

She pauses.

“Alex?”, is the confused reply. ” You're not due for an update email until next week. Or is the next chapter so bad you feel the need to break the news in person?”

“We got the commission to the Kirkland Collection.”

“Wow! That’s great, congratulations! His Lordship Sir A must be so chuffed.” Megan and Alistair have a deep hate relationship that no one knows why, them being so alike. Or maybe that’s the reason. “Which means you’ll give me the edits sooner, maybe?”

“Yeah, about that. I’m not calling because of _The Kinky Pirate CEO_.”

“Hey, I told you not to call it that, it’s going to get stuck in my head and I haven’t made up my mind yet about the title.”

“Yes, sorry, you know I’m not serious.”

“I know you are actually, and since you are also in on the profits with 3.5 percent you can silently call it whatever you like. But out loud we don’t want me to slip during the PR tour and alienate my readers.“ Megan laughs hoarsely, Alex can hear her exhaling smoke.

“To be honest I have something different on my mind. There has been some distraction lately, in the form of a man, it’s a bit related to the Kirkland library.” Alex knows her friend very well and hastily adds, “And no, you do not get to comment until I've told you all the facts.“

Megan is not just quiet but absolutely silent.

“All right, say it.” Alex caves.

“Holy shit, you met someone?!? How, when, what …?!? Didn’t I tell you!” Her friend's voice cracks.

“And now that you’ve said, ‘ _I told you so’_ , I will tell you so, okay?” Alex smiles but it tastes slightly bitter.

“Sure. Just don’t torture me, tell me right away, that he is different?” Meg sounds quite sober all of a sudden. “I mean, after all this time Sleeping Beauty, you deserve the one that kisses you awake. Literally.”

Alex is silent and looks around the store just to make sure she didn’t miss someone coming in while she is on the phone.

“He is very special, yes; we kissed, yes.”

“Great, that’s great.” Alex thinks she can hear the waves of the ocean in the background. “But…? I hear a _but_ …? Did you tell him?”

“Yes, I told him.” Alex concedes, “It was a right mess and still he took it quite well, everything considered.”

“Really. The whole story?”

“Yes. Well, the part about not being with anyone for years.”.

“And what else…?”

“And he asked about my last relationship and I explained how Martin cheated. Broken trust and broken heart. That is quite a lot.”

“Yes, but not all.”

“We hadn’t even kissed yet at that point! Could I get some credit so far?”

“Of course… sorry, I interrupted. So he is interested, and even more importantly, _you_ are, and if you are calling me, and not Severine, this is not about your heart but your head. You still need to break the rest to him, I assume. And you want to talk it over with me, yes?”

"Yes.”

“Before we go on, can I scream? Just one small one?”

“All right go ahead. “ Alex holds her phone against her shoulder to muffle the Tarzan like noise.

“That felt great! From the beginning now. How did you meet?”

“He walked into the store Monday last week. He loves the classics, was at Cambridge a bit before us. We connected, and puzzled together over the Kirkland stipulations, he helped a lot. To be honest he was the deciding factor. We had dinner. He has a dog, by the name of Toby. Oh, and his name is Tom.” Alex takes a breath, collects her thoughts. “We went for a walk last Friday and I told him about Mum. He just listened. No blah blah. He is good at that. He also knows about Arthur.”

Meg acknowledges, “That was a big step, to tell him all that after only a few days.”

It had taken Alex almost a year to share details about the loss of her mother with her Cambridge roommate, by then turned friend, Megan. It was only shortly after, that the next heartache broke over Alex in the form of Martin, and it forged an airtight friendship between the roomies - during their studies, during Megan quitting and running off to Bali, writing her first self published adult novel at the age of 25, with Alex reading and editing along ever since.

“We got rained on and went to his place to dry off. I don’t know it was somewhat… well, you would probably describe it as ‘ _magical’_ , but mostly, I felt comfortable with him, like I could be just myself. From the very beginning I felt safe. But also sometimes panicky. And yes, sometimes tingly. I asked him on a date last Sunday. “ Alex pauses, gives Meg a moment to digest, changes the direction for a moment. ” Arthur told me not to use masks to hide like in Greek plays. That I need not hide and am worthy of love. For a short while that day it was almost like having him back.”

Megan sighs. “I miss him. And he is damn right! Good old Arthur. It’s been such a long time since I came for a visit. Is he well?”

“Yes, he is. Thank you.”

“So, you asked the guy for a date? Bravo! Where did you go? Is that when you told him?”

“I once again ended up at his house, dog sitting - that’s another story - and when he came home, I just kind of threw it at him.”

“Really, just like that?”

“I might have oversimplifying, but yes, and he took it quite well. We went to see a play the next day, we had dinner and spoke about a million things.”

Meg hesitates, then asks, "One of them being your unlucky experiences?”

“Yes, we talked, shared our experiences..."

Meg asks, "All of them?'

"We were sat at dinner; should I have mentioned I'm frigid then, over risotto and white wine?!?” 

Undaunted by her friend's sharpness, Meg responds immediately, 'Alex, you are _not_ frickin’ frigid! Just because you didn’t enjoy sex with Martin, doesn’t mean you won’t with another person! “ Megan stops herself with a sharp exhale through her nose which is picked up very clearly by the microphone.

Alex presses her lips together, waits a moment before she replies. “I know you believe that but I’m the one living it - or not, as it is. And before you tell me to wait and see… well, I did wait, and I did see. In a manner of speaking.”

“Wait, what? Holy shit, did you sleep with him?”

“No. Well, yes… in a manner of speaking.”

“Stop saying that and tell me what happened!”

“Stop interrupting me and I will!”

There is a moment of silence and each hears the other’s soft laughter.

“So yesterday I packed an overnight bag and went to stay at his house.”

“You took a bag and stayed overnight at the house of a man you knew a week. Who are you and what have you done with my cautious friend?!?”

“Meg, I packed 3 outfits and even more underwear. I still am your cautious friend.”

“That sounds more like you, yes. Still, overnight?”

“He has a big house with a spare bedroom. It went reasonably well and he asked me to stay over again today.”

“Right. So if it went so swimmingly, why am I biting my nails?”

“I really had wanted to speak with him, eventually, but I thought maybe it wouldn’t be necessary. And in a sense it wasn’t. It was just so perfect to have this time with him, and I didn’t want it to be over or spoiled, you know? I wanted to try and see whether, maybe things would be different with him, or if I could just, maybe trick my body? I was feeling _something_ , I really was, and my nerves were just going to get worse, so I …” Alex takes a deep breath.

“Jeez, you are killing me, what happened?!?”

“I kissed him in the kitchen, and it was lovely, and I ended upon his lap, on the couch, and… do you remember ‘ _The Hot Chairman of the Board’‘_?”

“First of all, stop giving my books such ridiculous nicknames. That thing was a best seller, and second, you gave him a _hand job_?!

“Yes. I mean, I did put my hands down his trousers, and he came with them still on. It felt amazing. The speed and the force of it.”

Megan can’t help but laugh.

“It’s about time you describe sex that way… I then he showed his gratitude?”

Alex is silent.

“What now? We wouldn’t be talking about him if he’s an ass like Martin?”

“No, no he is not, he wanted to. But I … got nervous. Panicked, maybe a little. And it was so lovely just feeling his chest heaving, the heat, his brain totally switched off for a while. He held me very tight and it was the best feeling. But I couldn’t go further, and he didn’t seem to mind. I asked whether we could just go to sleep. And we did. “

“Good for you. That was sensible, one step at a time. However, I hear another but. Girl, why do I hear another but?”

“Because I had a bad dream that night. I had fallen asleep all right but then I woke, it might have been his body weight shifting towards me, the feel of his erection touching my back…I don’t know. But I had to leave the bed.”

“What did he have to say to that?”

“He only noticed in the morning and I blamed the dog. He was sweet, making breakfast.” Alex sighed. “He just sent flowers because he wasn’t allowed to join me for lunch.”

“What will you do now?” Megan works hard on sounding neutral and holding back all the advice she wants to give and knows is totally useless.

“I promised to stay over again tonight. I know I need to tell him. I’m just hoping that maybe against all odds I’m suddenly a normal girl, not made of wood?”

Megan chokes on a laugh, “You are not made from wood, far from it. I know with the right person you will go up in flames, I promise! You told me you get all hot and bothered at the sex in my books. You _can_ feel it…”

“Yes, maybe, but not ever with another person! And in your books, that’s only make believe. No one really does what you write about, no matter how well you describe it.”

Meg sounds seriously appalled. “Says who? Everyone has different taste buds. Severine loves French vanilla tarte and I prefer spicy Thai chicken which, if you think about it in those terms, means you just haven’t found your own kind of flavor favorite. You need to taste a new dish. Something more appealing than the one tiny English sausage you had 10 years ago. You said this guy makes you feel safe, and that is the most important requirement. You didn’t say, but I assume he has had relationships, sex? At least more than you? He is experienced?”

“Yes, more than enough.”

“Don’t tell me now you resent that? Most people have jumped through a few hoops with age.”

“Not resent… just makes it harder to fool him.” She mumbles.

“Alex, you are not _supposed_ to be fooling him, or worse yet, fooling yourself. Look, I know what I said, and I’m sure you feel like I’m telling you to throw yourself in off the deep end and part of me thinks you should, but only if that’s what you really want to do. If you don’t want to sleep with him, then don’t. If you don’t feel ready, worse still if you don’t feel anything, just tell him. But don’t pretend. It’s not fair not to give him full disclosure, so he knows and can act accordingly. Most men are NOT selfish pricks, I keep telling you, give them a chance.”

“Yes, you keep telling me and writing them like that, but I haven’t met any of _them_.”

“To be fair - you hid from _them_.” Both are aware they are stressing that word almost comically by now.

“Yes, maybe.” Alex admits and doesn’t know what else to say.

“You’ll do the right thing in the right moment. Trust yourself.” After a moment of silence Megan adds, “On second thought, no, don’t. Trust _me_ in this. I know you are cautious, and you should be, but the time to dare is now. Everything you told me about him, but more importantly how you talk about him… please, dare to trust me in knowing you can do this and dare to trust him to handle it. He took everything else in stride, no? He seems to be the right man for the job. Otherwise he wouldn’t have gotten so far behind the enemy lines, excuse the hostile comparison.”

“I trust him. And you. But I think maybe a bottle of wine or a little weed…”, Alex may not be all too serious, but Meg is most definitely not in favor.

“No. No way, Alex. These kind of joys should not be misused to alter reality in that way.”

“Excuse me, you are smoking right now, are you not?”

“Yes, but that is after. To prolong the orgasmic high.”

“What do you... are you _with_ someone right now?!?”

“Yes, but no worries, she's asleep, and I went down to the beach. She is out for at least another hour. We have time to talk this through.”

“That was not why I was asking.”

“I know. Okay, listen. What I’m getting from your convoluted story telling, is that you actually know what you _should_ do but most likely you won’t. I am all for you taking a leap, not overthinking, and for most this would be natural, however, knowing you… I’m not sure that this is a good idea without telling him. Consent is not just a one way street. He did not agree to being used that way.”

Alex is silent.

The door chimes and she sighs. “ I need to go. Thank you.”

“You are welcome. Luv ya!”

The customers need help but Alex is only on the task with half of her brain – which is more than enough in that case. The other half keeps ticking and moving and crunching. What is it about trust that would make a difference in the situation?

When she is ready to leave the locked up store, she remains standing in the dark, keys in hand. This is her haven, here she feels competent and knows no doubts. The second she passes over the doorstep, enters the world outside, she needs to put on the thick protective layer, and the closer she lets Tom get, the harder it is to keep it up. She is so tired of carrying it. 

He won’t fault her, he won’t ask of her what she is not able to give. But he might leave, nonetheless. Not immediately, not right away. But over time. Once he needed more.

Part of her is disgusted with what she has turned into in the course of a few days. She never wanted to be _that_ person, the needy helpless one, afraid to lose the partner, willing to compromise if only they stay. She has been alone the last 10 years, longer than that. And never felt lonely before this very moment. Why does she feel it now? Is it a weakness to give another person the right to judge? Well, not exactly, maybe more the opportunity to hurt?

But then, who says he would?

So the question remains – should she try to fool him and hope that the feelings that started to bubble up in her yesterday, even if just for a moment, will be enough? Is it beyond praying that she can continue to hide her physical detachment? Does she have to tell him or can she hold on to the hope that he won’t notice?

That is her preferred option, still.

Because what would be the alternative? To tell him…and what exactly? Meg’s advice might sound great on paper, but how to explain to him when she herself does not understand, and even though she knows intellectually that it’s not her fault, how to not get defensive once again?

All she knows is, for the first time in her life, she doesn’t want to lose this person. She craves his closeness, she wants to touch him and does not mind his touch in turn. But.

Will he be satisfied with what she can give?

And what if he asks for more?

## 10:09 GMT

_What really frightens and dismays us is not external events themselves, but the way in which we think about them. It is not things that disturb us, but our interpretation of their significance._

_―_ Epictetus

Tom had turned away from Babylon quickly, sure he would otherwise linger to just ogle through the windows if he didn’t move away immediately.

He remembered Alex had mentioned she loved a certain spring plant fragrance, so he started researching on his phone while on the way back and had it delivered to the shop for lunchtime. Well, it was supposed to be lunchtime, but it took longer than expected to find even just a tiny basket with lily of the valley, embedded in spongy green moss, from what he could tell by the blurry picture the florist provided. He deemed it 2 hours well spent.

In the afternoon he considered once again a shave as he returned from his run but grinningly told his reflection in the mirror that the added texture might actually turn out a bonus for tonight’s activities. He stepped into the hot steam of his shower and relaxed against the wall as he closed his eyes, his fingers distributing soap all over himself and enjoying the shiver of anticipation. Oh what the hell, a wank now would actually be helpful later on, he reasoned as he groaned appreciatively while working himself up to the image of Alex asleep this morning on the couch. So innocent. And so tempting. She had looked like a true Sleeping Beauty and was dead to the world as he started the morning preparations before he regrettably had to wake her. He realized only now that she had her pillow with her, which meant she had premeditated to sleep down on the couch, which was… his mind blanked as his body shuddered and was flooded with pleasure.

Toby insisted that they pick Alex up and take her for a walk before suggesting dinner at the pub around the corner. Alex was surprised to see them and for a moment Tom thought she was hesitant but she recovered fast and erased his doubt with a long, lingering, pants tightening kiss; praising him for the flowers and asking about his day.

During dinner he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had happened, something changed but he couldn’t put his fingers on it. When they came home, Toby and Alex spent at least ten minutes playing tug of war over the new toy the doggo received earlier on, as a bribe for having to spend the night anywhere but the bedroom - because its door would be firmly shut tonight, at least if Tom had anything to say about it.

As Alex finally joined him on the couch, she had a very peculiar look on her face. But after a moment she closed the space between them, placing her hands on his hips, kissing him, and once more very effectively blanking his mind.

Twenty minutes later he was very glad indeed he had given himself a hand earlier on. Alex seemed to float with happiness over him, on top of him soft like a petal and almost like on the brink of something, but however involved, she seemed to show no sign of moving the proceedings to the at least proverbial sheets. And that was fine, really, he was just a _bit_ uncomfortable with her on his lap, very much like the night before but he _refused_ a repeat of this particular show. He wanted to come, yes, preferably in her this time, but definitely not his pants.

Alex rested her face on his chest, inhaling deeply, contently, and then she got up. She looked at him as if to steel herself and say something unpleasant, prepared herself it seemed and then her face went blank at his questioning, probably yearning look.

“Let’s go to bed.”

“Really?”

She didn’t turn around again and went into the guest bathroom, but he had gotten the signal, all right, he hadn’t expected that but the game was afoot. This time she was in bed first, her lamp switched off already as he entered the room and leaned down in the dim light to kiss her, tasting mint, and hesitance.

“Anything specific you do not like?” he whispered against her mouth.

“I like you, that should be a good start?”

He smiled as his lips brushed her skin and moved slowly down her throat, pushing her flat on her back, grasping her by the hips - in a show of possessiveness he had started to expect but absolutely failed to rationalize - and with one swift move pulled her towards his body, covering her, pressing her legs apart and himself right where he longed to be.

He hungrily mouthed her breasts under the thin material that was hiding them and could feel the peaks rising beneath the cool wetness. Alex stroked his back with one hand and his hair with the other, restlessly moving under him, causing a tantalizing friction.

Tom’s forearms pushed below her back and with his hands, he lifted her chest closer to his feasting lips, her hair spilling down her neck after he’d found and discarded the annoying rubber band holding it prison. His fingers combed through the strands and his pelvis swayed in time with the movement, in slow but insistent waves against her, maybe expecting her to raise her legs and cradle his hips… but she was strangely docile, not resisting but also not following.

“Am I too fast?”, he looked up from his current position on her stomach, having moved the shirt to the side, sucking the sensitive skin under, but not yet fully exposing her breasts. He felt like a boy on Christmas morning, about to unpack the coolest toy ever.

Alex opened her eyes and shook her head slightly but remained silent.

“You are with me, yes?”

She nodded but he didn’t quite believe her, feeling a hesitance still, so he rested his cheek on her belly for a moment, his body cradled between her soft legs and then looking up again, searched for her hands to intertwine their fingers.

“It was quite quick, yesterday, and I loved it, but we have all the time in the world now, I want to take so much time, for you… tell me what do you want? Or show me?” he added, a bit puzzled over her silence.

Alex considered this, then untangled their fingers, and sat up, jostling him from his sweet spot and took off the silky shirt in a swift motion, throwing it to the side. As a result her breasts were swaying softly right in front of Tom’s eyes. And mouth. Too tempting to not just take and taste. His mind was flooded for a second with all the possibilities and the sensation that situation held. He pushed up against her, purely instinctual and needy, the startled sound that escaped her was muted by his crushing mouth and the strength of his need, covering her body with his bigger one. His bare chest connected with hers forcefully, her nipples still hard and very distinct on his skin, raising goosebumps, but he stopped himself, if only just, breathing hard.

“Alex, I would like nothing more than to lose myself in you but… I need to hear you say it.” He cleared his throat. “We agreed to do this together, you teach me and I you but if I’m to learn you,” he smiled sweetly, “I will require some clear instructions.”

Alex bit her lips, as he looked at her, he saw the struggle in her face and suddenly thought he understood.

“You were covering your nerves with your… let’s say _assertiveness_ last night? Yes?”

She looked relieved and exhaled before she replied tentatively.

“It’s been a while as you know. But I do want you to continue. I might have forgotten what it’s like to let another person...” She avoided looking into his eyes at her admission and even though her phrasing sounded odd, he was just glad they were seemingly on the same page again.

“Then let me remind you? It will be my absolute pleasure to remind you. All you need to do for now is lean back and trust me. Yes?”

Alex nodded and leaned back, as instructed. Her eyes were wide open, and she carded her fingers through his hair again, nervously. _Nothing like a rapt audience to show off to_ , he thought wistfully and took up the challenge. He had felt his heart swell at her confession and he scolded himself for the assumption, that - because she had initiated their previous, rather quick encounter like jumping into cold water - she was ready for the open sea.

“Now, where was I…”, he purred and placed small kisses on her chin, down her neck and at her chest, consciously avoiding the center of her breasts. He was trying to be mindful of his speed and body weight, aiming to build a level of comfort and inwardly chanting ‘ _slow, slow, keep it slow, idiot’_. As he moved down to her stomach, achingly slow, licking and sucking, tasting and not very successfully trying to remain in control of his own reactions, he felt the luckiest man alive.

He was aware of a slight tremor moving through the body below him and without any haste he hooked his thumbs into the waist of her sleeping shorts. Checking in, he felt encouraged by her nod and pulled the material down as she lifted her hips. He resisted the urge to look at what he laid bare and moved up again towards her face, but this time going straight for her nipples, hoping for some auditory feedback from her tightly closed lips. It should have been perfect. But something was not right. His hands kept stroking her sides reassuringly and he inhaled deeply, looking up at her.

“This isn't doing it for you, is it?”

## 22:23 GMT

_It is the power of the mind to be unconquerable._

_―_ Seneca

Tom crawled up from his position and kissed her gently.

“Tell me. This isn’t just nerves, and I truly hope it isn’t me being an absolute imbecile. It’s fine if you want to wait. You know that. But please tell me, what happened just now that you can’t relax?” And after a moment he dared to voice what he had been wondering all along. “Or maybe I should ask, what happened… before - back then?”

“Nothing happened.” Alex sighed staring at the ceiling.

He sat up, looking at her, concerned. In a way he was relieved that his intuition had not been wrong, because despite her denial, something indeed had happened. That much was clear. He leaned over to switch on her bedside lamp and she instinctively covered her bare chest with crossed arms. He flinched inwardly at the gesture, leaned down to where her top had fallen and handed it to her.

Alex finally looked him in the eyes. “Nothing ever happened, that is the problem.”

She felt better once she got the top back on, pulled the shorts up and tucked the blanket under her arms. As Tom helplessly watched her put on the pieces of her armour one by one he was very aware of his own nakedness. And he decided that remaining so was his best defense. To demonstrate his openness, vulnerability even, to let her know without words that he wasn’t hiding and that she needn’t either.

He took a deep breath. “I am out of my depth. I don’t understand and I don’t know what to do. You initiated this, tonight, but at the same time you don’t seem to want it.“

“I do.”

When she didn't continue, Tom did, "But to me, it feels like you don’t. At least not now. And that is absolutely fine. I didn’t presume for us to spend tonight in bed. “ He shrugged his shoulders. “Well, in bed, yes, but not having sex, necessarily.”

Alex was still silent, so he got himself comfortable, lay on his side, covered himself with the blanket as well, signaling his willingness to listen and waited, hoped for her to mirror his position. When she finally did, he put his hand in the space between them, an offering. And she took it.

“I want it. I want to try. I want to feel it, but it just doesn't happen.”

Since the moment she told him about her lack of connection in the past years, he’d come up with some wild theories, dragons he’d already started to slay for her in his mind, but right now there was nothing to protect her from, nothing tangible to set right.

“I don’t understand.” ~~~~

Alex closed the distance between them, crawled into his arms, very similar to last night and held on to him for dear life but didn’t speak.

He coaxed her. “What do you mean by ‘ _it just doesn’t happen’_? You didn’t enjoy what I was doing? You need me rougher, softer? Just say what would make you enjoy it and we’ll try. With pleasure. Just tell me what you need.”

She smiled sadly before she whispered, “That is the problem. I don’t know.“

Tom realized he needed to change his approach as Alex seemed stuck in some kind of justification loop. “What did you like before you and I, maybe let’s start with that.”

She finally looked up at him and murmured. “I never liked it before.” Tom admired her ability to once again punch him hard out of nowhere, at a place deep in his chest, where it really hurt. “I mean, I never wanted to touch and be touched. Before.”

He didn’t understand the situation intellectually but emotionally he knew he needed to hold on to her or she would disappear. He was not sure of anything right now but this – that he did not want her to disappear not now, not ever. She was already half gone from the far away look on her face, so he saw only one way to stop her from fading - they needed to get this, whatever it was, out in the open. He could only defeat an enemy he could see. A terrifying thought came to his mind. What if he was the enemy?

“I don’t understand… Last night, you did touch me, and I touched you. And it seemed all right. It felt like we were on the same page, at least to me.”

“We were. Are. I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to do and I didn’t mind it; I wanted to make you happy so I did what I thought you expected.”

Tom’s initial reaction was to recoil. He couldn’t help his reaction, but what stopped him from showing it, was the sense of déjà-vu as she clung to him, as she had the night before. As if she in turn now believed he would vanish when it was the furthest thing from his mind. He was shocked yes, but once again not by what she might have thought. He retightened his hold to let her feel what both seemed currently unable to verbalize, but what he knew to be absolutely true. Nothing bad would happen as long as they held on to each other.

“You figured that getting me off is what I _expected_? You didn’t _mind_? How can you think I wanted you to do anything if it doesn’t make _you_ happy at the same time?”

It was not an accusation, rather a realization, and it pained him, even though she neither confirmed nor denied, it hurt him to imagine. He tenderly traced her cheek bones with his fingers and waited for her to feel the connection, to further have faith in him. And it seemed she did.

”But I wanted it, too. I wanted it for you…because it was for me, too. It did make me happy. Does that make sense?”

It didn’t really, not to Tom, but he could tell she was being as honest as she could be. “Ok, let me ask you - what is it _you_ want or _expect_ out of this? From me? What can I do that makes _you_ happy?” He could see that she was confused by the change of direction the conversation was taking. “You told me about your parents, and I understood that you look for the same kind of connection they had. That both you and I look for that and the first step is toward it, is mentally, emotionally. Yes?”

She nodded carefully and he continued, encouraged, “We are both here because we want that - to be together, emotionally. And I think we are. We both feel it, yes?” It seemed breaking it into pieces, small steps, helped the communication barrier.

“Yes.” Alex finally found her voice and maybe even more importantly, trusted the connection he offered.

“So, for me the next step could be physical closeness, being with you is what I want.”

She stared deeply into his eyes and grabbed on to that link.

“I know what I want, too – but also, that I can’t fulfill _my_ side of the deal.” Tom opened his mouth but she stopped him by putting her finger against his lips. “I can and want to give my heart, my soul, but for some reason my body won’t follow.” She looked away but unexpectedly moved towards him, gently pushing him on his back, resting against his chest, her head nestled below his jaw again. “I get to a certain point and then, nothing. Physically, I mean.”

“But your body is following. You were right there with me. And what do you mean, _not fulfilling your part of the deal_?”

“Well, it is a deal in a way, no? One gives something and one gets something. I can give, and it makes me happy, with you. But I can’t convince my body to let itself be taken, to ‘ _loosen up’_ , ‘ _relax’_ or ‘ _just let it happen’_. “

Tom could actually see the quotation marks around these words, could hear a different voice than hers stating these accusations.

“What I want is not necessarily physical.” After a moment she clarified,” Sexual. But I understand it is what I need to give in order to keep what I want. And yes, I know what that sounds like. And I don’t mean it like that, especially not with you, but it’s the only way I can explain it. I did what I did yesterday because I could show you how I feel emotionally by making you feel something physically. I wanted to give you what you wanted, because you give me what I want.”

Tom was silent because he honestly wasn’t sure what to reply. His recollection of last night might not be very objective, but besides his own bliss he was _sure_ he had seen if not bliss, then joy in her face, her body’s reactions. She had been aroused, she had been if not _all_ the way there, still _with_ him, nonetheless. He had seen her responses, felt them, tasted them. It was hard to believe now when she told him that she didn’t.

“I want to be with you.” Alex tightened her hold around him, “I want everything with you. I can appreciate the simple tactile pleasure of a kiss or a tender stroke; I mean, I feel it and I enjoy it but it doesn’t cause in me whatever it is that it seems to cause in everyone else.” She pauses. ”Sexual arousal. I’ve never felt that.”

Tom felt nauseous, numb somehow. He held her in his arms but stopped any movement, wanted to get up but she kept him where he was.

“We...on the couch, when you...you didn't want it?”

“No! I mean yes, I did. We were touching and kissing and I felt...something. I felt you. It gave me satisfaction “

She kissed his lips, cheeks, throat. She pleaded with her eyes.

Suddenly their roles seemed reversed.

“I want to be with you. It gives me pleasure.”

“So, by accepting when you give me pleasure, I'm giving you what you want?” Alex nodded; he could even sense a smile on her face, "That's what makes you _glow_.”

“Yes.”

“And that is all you want.”

“It is all I think I can give. To make _you_ glow.”

“By which you mean, you get me off.“

“I wouldn’t put it so crudely but…yes. It does make you happy, no?”

“You offer to get me off,” he repeated, “but you don’t want me to do the same for you.”

Alex tensed at the rough sound of his voice. “It’s not that I don’t want it. It’s more that, I don’t know how to. I can’t. I never did. And it’s not so much of a big issue. I am not the only person in the world that… I mean, I researched it. What I know is that I enjoy being with you, I enjoy being held and to hold on.”

“So in the past, you didn’t enjoy it, when you were with that prick - might it have been, because he was not just a cheating bastard but a heavy handed idiot as well?”

“Maybe, in part.”

“Why are you putting limitations on yourself and on me because of that one lousy experience? Because of _his_ inability?” he used the word with full purpose and heat.

“I’m limited because of _me_. He cheated, yes. And he was an ass. But in part it was my fault.” She puts a finger up to stop him. “Perhaps fault is the wrong word, because I’ve read a lot about the subject and I don’t blame myself any longer. It doesn’t change the facts though.“

“What subject, what facts?”

“The reason I have not sought out a relationship or been with a man, is that I didn’t see the point. There was no point. Until you. I felt nothing, for no one. Not really emotionally, _definitely_ not physically. I’ve read about these feelings in books, heard people talk about it, saw Mum and Dad, yes – but I never felt attraction for another person or body like that. The need to touch or be touched.”

Tom was silent, absorbing all this with a hollow feeling in his stomach.

“So you are saying you tried to find literature that would support your theory that it was your fault that he couldn’t arouse you? That you weren’t attracted to him?” He tilted her head up. “Bloody hell, woman you are one of a kind.”

“I am trying to say, I don’t know what’s broken or how to fix it.” She was serious but somehow Tom didn’t quite understand yet how much. “I am saying, I suspect I will never experience being with you the same way you do, the thing, whatever it is, is broken.”

“Why would you say that? There is nothing broken.” Tom’s held on to the one thing that gave him hope. “You didn’t like being with him, but now you are daring to try this, with me. Something has changed, because you said there was no point, until me. So you do feel something now?”

“I feel something, but not the way you do. See? Broken.”

"Alex, you're not broken. There is nothing wrong with the way you are.”

“Then why did you stop?” She looked at him but quickly diverted her eyes. “You _noticed_.”

“I stopped because you were obviously not enjoying yourself. Yet.”

He suddenly realized something and he narrowed his eyes at the memory. “You left, last night, you left on purpose, took your pillow downstairs. Why was that?”

“I needed to think.”

“But thinking doesn’t solve this, does it?” He takes her hands and kisses her fingertips very lightly, contemplating.

“If I understand you right, you were stressing yourself over not having enjoyed physical intimacy with dumb ass, so you blamed yourself, which in turn stressed you even more. Which, if the same is happening now, is a bit counterproductive for our plans of the evening.” His effort to get her to relax evaporated. Or rather seemed to hang frozen in the air.

”You built something up in your mind. Another _hypotheses_. About being broken in the body. You thought about it and researched it and the one thing it seems you may not have occurred to you is, you cannot achieve feeling by thinking.”

He pressed his lips together, pondering.

“During sex one cannot hide, at least that is what it’s like for me, that is what I love about it. The absolute vulnerability of it, of not knowing, of simply offering and feeling, showing your most true self. But specifically, _not_ thinking. Also, it is the most selfish thing one can do, to take pleasure. Because in that moment, it's all about yourself and what you're feeling. No one can feel _for_ you or experience the climax, that big bang but _yourself._ All by yourself. In that moment you are all alone.”

Alex was awfully quiet and so he continued.

“That being said, that moment of selfishness is exponentially improved if you’re with someone, especially someone you care about. And I want to share that with you. However, I can also see how any of this is against your nature. You have become so very good at hiding, protecting yourself. You are so damn smart, you get scared when you don’t have the answers. I think what you aren’t realizing is, that nothing is required in that moment but being yourself. Being selfish, taking care of yourself. By letting me take care of you.”

He raised his hand, to stop her this time, from interrupting.

“Also, you are the most selfless person I can think of, giving everything for someone else seems effortless to you but the moment it becomes about yourself, you freeze.”

Alex suddenly didn’t remember anymore what she meant to accuse him of.

“ _That_ is what I felt, just before. That is why I stopped. You froze and I could actually hear the cogs and wheels turning in that marvelous brain of yours. You were there, in your head. Not with me. Not in your body. And now that you’ve explained, I understand better. This is nerve wracking, under the best circumstances, the first time - believe me I am absolutely a mess inside with wanting to impress you, with trying to be the best first time with someone you ever had… which as it turns out, wouldn’t be hard.”

His jokes were as bad as ever but he felt tension leave her body.

“I don’t mean to belittle or negate your anxieties, they are real but they are fully unnecessary. We have all the time in the world and being with you just like this is amazing, is breathtaking. If this is all you are comfortable with right now, then so be it. And once you are comfortable and want to seek more, we will. Move further. I can’t think of anything more pleasurable than trying to make this brain of yours stop ticking, for a while at least. To give back what you so generously gave to me yesterday. If you want. If you are willing to try. To trust me.“

“But… what if I can’t?”

He was still. Indeed, what if she wasn’t willing to trust him? Then this was all pointless, wasn’t it?

Alex hurried on, as though she'd read his mind, “I don’t mean I cannot trust you, that I do. Of course I do. We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. I mean, what if I can’t stop the…ticking?”

His heart stumbled and fell back into rhythm.

“Don’t worry about it, that will be _my_ job, my _pleasure_ actually. I am an excellent wrench for any clockwork, just ask my last director.” He returns to the serious tone. “If you let me, if you want me to, I promise, I will not only stop the clock but also keep going until you are _out of your mind_. Whenever you are ready to try, whenever you want. Which is not now.”

He arranged a pillow behind him and her in his arms, kissed her temple. “Now, there is nothing to do, but be here. To let me hold you. To hold me.”

For a moment they lay in silence. Processing.

“It’s not that simple, let me at least do something for you.” Alex sighed, frustrated as he stopped her hands.

“And you would let me do the do the same?” he questioned.

“'Yes, I'd let you do whatever you wanted, even though it doesn’t work.” She sounded very matter of fact.

“You wouldn’t enjoy me touching you?”

“I would, but not in the way you expect. Not in the way you mean. I suppose it’s like comparing flat water with bubbly champagne. Both are liquids but…”

“I take it, I am the Moet in this picture?” he engulfed her in his arms. “How would you know I’m not more like Evian? Fantastically exciting Evian?” He willed her to smile back at him, kissed her nose, attempting to ease the mood. “Nothing to do here now but relax.”

“So we just lie here and be sparkling water together?” Alex went back into his arms.

“Yup.”

The way Tom popped the _p_ made her smile at his chest, and Alex almost dozed off in his arms as he caressed his fingers up and down her shoulders for the next little eternity. Almost hypnotically. Up and down. Seducing her heart beat to slower and her breathing to become deeper.

Tom finally asked, had to voice it into the serene silence that had cocooned them, “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? If you trust me?”

“I do.” She kissed his collar bone, too relaxed to lift her head further, but he put his finger under her chin and she exhaled. “I don’t trust myself. I have faith in my brain but no trust in the unpredictable vehicle that houses it.”

“You were afraid to repeat the disaster of the hunch-backed toad?”

She laughed. “Where do you come up with these insults? And no, I did not think you two alike. The opposite reason actually - I did not want to disappoint you. I hoped you wouldn’t notice… and at the same time I hoped you would. As you did.” She kisses him again, deeply. “The first time I slept with Martin, I did it because he was charming, but mostly because I was the only one left I knew who hadn’t had sex. I never wanted it, never understood the hype, never would have initiated it but with the drinks we had that night and his sweet words… well, we tried, and it was painful and not arousing at all. He said, it was to be expected and it would get better. It didn’t.”

“He hurt you?”

“Not the way you mean, no. Not after that first time. He did his best, I guess, but it just… didn’t work. Not like when you and I… ” She shrugged.” I never felt any connection with him, and I never understood why. The sex, it was just an act. He was so close to me physically, but he was so far away from anything that mattered at the same time.”

Tom picked up on the one thing that gave him hope. “What is different when we…?”

Alex looked at him for a long time, considering. “Once again, I don’t know. But I feel _you_. I feel close to you. I like it when I am close to you. When I can focus on you. Then the thinking stops. Though the moment it became about me that changed.” Tom could hear the surprise in her voice. “That is why I liked it so much last night when all I had to think about was you, all I could feel was you. I didn’t have to worry about myself. You didn’t have the time or the capacity to do anything but feel me and it made me so happy. Having this level of control over you was also quite … intoxicating.” She felt heat pooling in her face, and only part of it was out of shame at the admission. “I never felt so close to anyone or so safe while you couldn’t think and I didn’t have to. I can’t explain it.”

Tom needs a moment to get his voice back. “I was… well, to say I was excited by your initiative, might be an understatement. But in any case, yes, I was at a loss for words or thoughts,” he admitted.

Alex wanted to rekindle the feeling, make it clear that she was ready to continue, but Tom stopped the touch. He tried to reach for her to stay, but she kept moving down on him, kissing the skin of his tight stomach, and it broke his heart to dislodge her, but it would break something so much more important if he were to let her do this right now. His voice was louder than he meant for it to be when he protested as she ignored his attempts at stopping her.

“No, Alex, you don’t understand, I don't want you to...” The shock in her eyes. What to do about it? He hastily added. “If you don't enjoy it, I can’t either. I tried to explain.”

“But you _would_. You did. Yesterday.”

He wanted to deny it but found he couldn’t. He wanted nothing more than to hold her again, as it seemed this was the language that worked without fail, but the confusion of what was and what wasn't okay kept him immobile for a moment, and he needed to remind himself that this was out of her control as well, that as frustrating as this might be for him, it must be so much more for her.

“Not like this, no.”

“Why not?”

“Because now I know. Because mind over matter. Because I am more than a biological imperative. I cannot help the reaction of my body when you are so close, but I can make the decision to not follow through. In any physical relationship, there are times when one is the receiver, gets the attention, but that's only a good and healthy thing if it's reciprocal. I need us to be on equal footing. Either we both want it and enjoy it, or we will wait until that is the case.”

“But what if I never will?”

Tom considered that possibility. “I understand you are hesitant but I promise we will take this one step at a time and I can be very patient, contrary to recent statements, _especially_ if the reward is so high. And to be clear the reward is not sex. It is having you in my life, my arms.” He pulled her up, against his chest, kissed every part of her face he could reach. “Alex, I meant it with my whole heart, we have all the time in the world. I’m male yes, but not an idiot, I assure you. You need time to relax, to trust in this, us. That is fine.”

He returned to caressing her back. Up and down. Seducing her mind once again to believe in him, for her heart to trust in them. After a while, he noticed their breaths were in sync. He could tell she was exhausted and he didn’t blame her. He felt like he just ran a marathon himself.

 _How can you trust something exists if you haven’t been given the opportunity to experience it_ , he mused. _What if you are so strong willed and intelligent that your immense brainpower convinced you it’s not there, that you are broken?_

It startled him to realize that the same question might apply to him, just replace brain with heart and what did he get…

“Ready to sleep?”

“Just like that?” She questioned carefully. “We go to sleep, just like that? You can let it be, are okay, like that?”

“For now, yes, of course. We don’t have to turn off the lights, but you can hardly keep your eyes open.”

She tried to protest but was contradicted by her own deep yawn. He smiled. “If it’s all right with you, I would love to hold you and fall asleep with you and wake up with you. Have a lie-in, breakfast and then a walk. And I would like to talk. To understand. I’m afraid I do have more questions. But if it’s all right for now…sleep?”

She gave in, he sensed her relief and fatigue as they got comfortable in the dark and almost asleep Alex murmured to him.

“You aren’t disappointed or mad at me?”

“For you being you? For being cautious and needing time?”

“That and maybe… for trying to hide this?”

Tom was silent, brushing her hair hesitantly. “I am not mad, exactly, no. Not disappointed, for sure. I understand, to a degree. But. I could have hurt you, and not just physically. This could have gone so wrong.”

“I am sorry. I feel so…”

“No. Stop. You did what you thought you had to do at the moment. But as someone once said, _you do your best until you know better and then when you know better, you do better_. So, no secrets. At least not that kind, can we maybe agree on that?”

“Yes.” She kissed the fingers of the hand she had been holding onto. “Yes, I promise. But that goes both ways?”

“Of course!”

“Then tell me something about yourself. Share a secret. Something true. I would like to know something about you that no one else knows.”

“You already know _the deepest secret nobody knows_.” Tom considered what he just revealed, while he continued very quietly. “ _the wonder that's keeping the stars apart.”_

Alex it seemed couldn’t help but breathe out the reply, making it sound like a question _“i carry your heart?”_

And Tom confirmed after a breathless moment. _“i carry it in my heart”._

Alex lifted her head and kissed him desperately, tearfully, joyfully. Tom held on to her until they fell asleep.


	12. Friday, April 24

## 04:01 GMT

_The worst of all deceptions is self-deception_

_―_ Plato

Tom slept for a few hours. Deeply. But long before daylight he woke and when he sensed the warm body next to him, his brain lit up like a Christmas tree and wasn’t to be convinced to switch off again. Not surprising, really.

Looking at her asleep close to him in the dim light of early morning, Alex reminded him a lot of Toby as she lay curled into herself, using as little space possible it seemed. She faced his way like a flower to the east and after his eyes had gotten used to the dark, he thought he could see her nose peeking from under the blanket; she had basically all but wrapped herself like a burrito, leaving him with only the cover sheet. Which he didn’t mind. He should, but he didn’t. He found, he’d rather be cold than rousing her from her temporary peace. He smiled softly, seeing her untroubled, without the concern that had radiated from her at his possible reaction to the puzzling new information she had presented him with.

So. That was the iceberg he had expected all along and yet underestimated. How could he have not?

She didn’t feel anything during sex, she had said. She enjoyed his pleasure but didn’t feel any of her own, she had said. She wouldn’t mind, she said, she was happy to just make him happy and in turn be held. She’d said so much, none of it, he found he could fully comprehend, neither intellectually nor physically.

Tom sorted through his memories, and in his mind’s eye he recalled the night before last when he, with ecstatic senses, had taken her reactions as pleasure. Was convinced it was arousal. Had been so thrilled at the thought of joining their bodies, finally, to close the circle that was already complete in his heart and mind. Wanted to complete the trifecta - which for her, as it now seemed to turn out, was only a double.

He had acted as if it didn’t phase him. As if her rigid body hadn’t sounded all kinds of internal alarms, sadly most of them triggered by rather selfish thoughts. Because it did phase him. Because what did it mean for him, if she could not share his passion, the thrill at the other’s body? At least physically, the woman he loved didn’t feel what he felt. At least, that is what she’d _said_.

He was utterly perplexed at her conviction that she could not match his physiological reactions. And it was clear to him that _that_ was not what upset him. It was probably hardly ever the case that both partners were evenly matched in depth of feeling or ability to experience ecstasy, however lucky he may have been in that area in the past.

It enraged him however, that she had been made to believe she had to give up on it. That she had given up on expecting to be worthy of anyone trying to make it work for _her_. That she had settled for the worst case possible, taken the _fault_ and the responsibility. Given up, not just for her body being pleasured but, her heart and soul being filled.

And if she truly were not to be aroused, physically, they would find other ways to make her happy, however painful that thought was or, he hoped, however unlikely.

Because he had seen her. He had felt her. And most of all, he loved her and was not willing to give up on her the way she had herself. She had learned to expect so little, it infuriated him.

He _loved_ her.

That fact was very clear. He had as good as admitted it last night.

He loved _her_.

And if her reaction last night was anything to go by, she loved him too.

But who was _she_ \- before last night, but more importantly, now? Was she still the same woman he had fallen head over heels for in the book store, the woman whose mind had impressed immediately and whose body enticed him now? The multifaceted personality, who took him at face value once he had seen behind the façade and not turned, and had trusted him with all of her… issues?

Issues that she had meant to hide, he reminded himself but at the same time had to admit, issues that he was keen on solving, issues that she had in her way wanted to protect him from, but he wouldn’t let her.

Tom had never before needed to question why this usually so easily obtained step of physical intimacy seemed to be so important¸ important enough that even his best friend was aware of this proclivity.

He never questioned eating or breathing, did he? And now he’d met someone who lived without it. Maybe it was a lack of awareness, or experience? She’d said it was different with him. Hadn’t let anyone else close. Could he maybe show her, teach her…he stopped his thoughts.

Condescension.

This was pure arrogance. Who was he, to presume to know her better than she knew herself? He was sure there was a fitting Greek word in her vocabulary to describe exactly what a superior ass he was being right now.

Yet, he thought, he knew what he knew. She had been willing and appreciative. He refused to believe he would have felt what he felt, had she not at least in part reciprocated, enjoyed herself. She had even initiated – and he had taken, without hesitation, he realized with a painful stab to his heart. But luckily he had also felt there was something off – and still had not questioned it when it seemed alluring that first time, when it was sparking his curiosity, as long as it was enticing him towards her.

Could he now that he knew that it was her vulnerability that caused her hesitance, fault her for his _own_ weakness, of being attracted to the exact same thing he apparently couldn’t have?

Tom went back to the moment in time when he had already with half of his mind, and almost all of his body, been taking her, and with that, aiming to fill his own void. He identified what had made him stop, beyond her obvious stiffness, her unusual verbal muteness - a feeling very similar to him being on a set. Of her being a prop, there in body but not soul. The unreal feeling, he usually wanted to erase from his mind, when he came back from work, from pulling himself out of the emotional pretense, while aching for something real.

He loved her. All of her. Wanted. All of her.

Tom wasn’t as oblivious as Ben insinuated. He realized that most of his relationships were not meant to last, that he was trying to make something real out of an illusion. They were not _meant_ to last, at least not much beyond the time it took for the play or movie to finish.

More often than not, he yearned to prolong the feeling initiated by giving himself over to the mood of the piece he was working on and letting himself get carried away…because he was in love with the feeling of being in love - and not necessarily the partner he shared the experience with.

Tom couldn’t help himself, he committed his body and soul - there wasn’t one without the other - not because he had to, but because he wanted to, needed to. He never understood how Ben could distinguish between the character and himself. He was one person, one soul, he either felt - or he didn’t. It was destructive to a point, he was well aware, but weren’t artists meant to submerge themselves? Wasn’t that the true meaning of living? At least for him? To fill the void that ordinary life was not able to fill, with art, with beauty - and inevitably with what came attached to it, pain, and despair?

He loved her. And the clarity of it took his breath away. This was no fantasy, Alex was real and solid next to him, warm and fragile.

But could she love him? The way he needed her to?

Was he self-destructing via his behaviour in the past, or now - by taking this dangerous step into the unknown, by risking his heart with this flightless bird that triggered his protective instincts and _fueled_ his yearnings, by unintentionally cruelly _not_ fulfilling the desire for the - at least in the past - easily accessible drug; the pleasure his body sought.

Alex moved, nestled next to him and he tentatively touched her. She went into his arms instinctively, started mouthing his neck, pressed herself sleep drunk at his side with her thighs clasping his and made him break out in sweat. She short circuited every one of his reactions, every time, without fail found his buttons, no matter how much he meant to disable them. Not for his sake, really, but for hers.

Alex was caught in a dream, unbridled and in that moment breathtakingly tempting. How could she tell him she wasn’t feeling this, wasn’t enjoying their bodies so in tune? Tom squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaws. Hubris, once again. It was not up to him, but her.

He loved her. And would give her whatever she asked of him. Would go to the ends of the world to do what she asked.

But, what if she didn’t ask for anything?

## 07:10 GMT

_Many are the things that have caused terror during the night and been turned into matters of laughter with the coming of daylight._

_―_ Seneca

Alex dreams.

Tom is stretched out underneath her and pliant as she unobserved explores his face and neck and chest, feels his body heavy and hot underneath her, to do as she pleases. For once the hands of time caress, and do not rush her, the clock is frozen and the voices blessedly silent.

She is in no hurry, unnoticed and uninhibited. His sleep is deep and even though she can sense his pleasure, he is not conscious when he hums appreciatively under her wandering hands, her lips. It is light, yet dark; she can see everything and not be seen at the same time. He moans her name.

“Alex…”

She smiles and repeats the lick of her tongue over his salty skin.

“Alex!”

She startles fully awake.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you, but I wasn’t sure you’d be comfortable if we continued while you… sleep-walked.”

She squints down at Tom, looking very much like a few moments ago in her vision, if not slightly out of focus without her glasses, but mouth-watering, nonetheless.

And then she remembers. And feels his erection at her naked thighs. Her instinct to run and to defend, is soothed down by his patient voice, and calm touch to her face.

“What I meant to say was, good morning beautiful. I am very happy to wake up this time with you in my arms.” Tom ignores her frozen face and his primal urges, pretends to be absolutely relaxed. He is an actor, after all.

“Where is Toby?” Alex looks towards the closed door.

“I let him out over an hour ago… and why is that the first thing you have to say? Two nights ago you slept on the sofa with him, now this - do I need to worry about a four-legged rival for the affection of the lovely damsel?”

She smiles at his sweet attempt to give her a moment to recover, is grateful for his lightness.

“No, of course not. And good morning to you too, dear sir.” She lays her cheek over his steady heart and is still for a moment, with his arms warm around her, his strong fingers caressing her hair. Her own heart is beating much faster than his, the voice that tells her to trust him and stay, is surprisingly strong. He didn’t turn away last night, is still here. She will make this work.

“I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.” She says against his chest.

“You misunderstood me. I am more than comfortable, but I thought you mightn't be.”

Alex frowns at him.

“I thought you might not appreciate this kind of activity when fully awake.” Tom clarifies.

Not quite fully awake she just says what goes through her head, “I actually _enjoyed_ you being not fully conscious…I felt liberated.”

She is surprised at both the fact she said that out loud as well as at the truthfulness of the realization.

“I was _very_ conscious, believe me, for quite some time. Thinking about you to be honest. I felt like a pervert when I let you sleep-kiss me. Still, I enjoyed it.” He sounds a bit strained.

“So I wasn’t molesting you, much?” She is surprised at being able to tease him. He turn away last night. He wouldn’t now. The knowledge is thrilling.

“I was an all too willing participant, no complaints, no molesting. But how about you?” He stops, considering. “What did you mean by being _liberated_?”

It’s easier to talk without looking at him.

“I was…free? Because I wasn’t worrying, wasn’t wondering what to do. It wasn’t about me. It was a dream. Easy. “ Absentmindedly her fingertips stroke his arm.” There was no thought, just you, no pressure… not that you ever exerted any.”

Tom stops her hand, kisses her fingers.

“And I never will. But I will tell you until you believe me _: I have no expectations_. Except that you let me make you happy. Whatever that means to you.”

Alex cannot help but kiss him. She isn’t sure why he seems surprised by it. After a while he murmurs: “I tried to remember everything you said last night. Can I ask…if you didn’t feel an attraction towards dimwit, why sleep with him, or even be in a relationship? How did he convince you?”

Alex cringes a bit.

“It was actually me who sought him out - I learned that he had been in the class Mum taught when she had the heart attack. He was in the room when she died. I wanted to speak with someone who had seen, who had been there.” She pauses. “I missed her so much, and I knew it wouldn’t be a good idea, but at the same time once I met him and he was so forthcoming, charming, understanding, sharing things I never knew about her…” She is again quiet for a while, remembering. “I don’t think I realized what he wanted until he kissed me the first time. And the weird thing is, I wanted it too, in that single moment, I _felt_ \- not necessarily in my body, but my emotions were overwhelming me and, in a way, being close to another human was helping me to cope. I only understood much later, that I was using him to feel closer to her. That I mistook this yearning for something else entirely.”

Tom lifts her chin with his finger towards his face, their eyes connect.

“So you didn’t object, when you didn’t… get pleasure from it?”

“No, why would I? It’s me that’s broken, he was trying his best…”

Tom is caressing her back with very light strokes, the way he did last night, like he is calming a spooked creature, and she can almost hear him thinking. He is thoughtfully observing her.

“You really believe that?”

“I did. Back then I did. I realize now he used my search for connection to Mum for his purpose - but to be honest, I let him.” She thinks for a while. “I felt like I finally belonged somewhere, someone wanted to belong to me, in a grown-up way, you know? In the way those things are supposed to go? Severine met Maurice her first day at uni and never looked back; Mum and Dad fell in love the moment they laid eyes on each other - I hoped I would have this too. And then there was nothing.”

She is deep in thought, and again unconsciously starts teasing his chest with light finger brushes.

“I didn’t question it, I mean, what Severine felt and what I didn’t. I never talked about it with her. Everything else, but not this. For her it was so clear and I… to be honest I was afraid, there was something wrong with me. I'm not capable.” She calms him. “I know you don’t like the word, but that is just how I see it. I just accepted it as part of the deal. I’m not sure I ever would have doubted the _arrangement_ with him if the other things hadn’t gotten out.”

“So, you let him touch you, have sex with you, use you and never once liked it.” Tom struggles to say this without prejudice but Alex understands his disbelief. If she weren’t the one living it, she probably wouldn’t believe it either. _Does he think less of me for that_? But it can’t be helped.

“I merely let him have what seemingly everyone but me wanted. I got other things. At least I thought I did.” 

Tom is digesting.

“I’m sorry but I still struggle to comprehend. You feel _something_ … but you don’t feel _it_?”

She rests her chin in her hands on his chest and looks at him, considering, dares herself to be vulnerable.

“Have you ever tried to describe something you _haven’t_ experienced? My friend Megan compares it to food – no surprise there – she says I haven’t found the flavor yet that makes me go, _wow, I definitely want more of that_! Or, again in Meg’s words, I’ve never felt _turned on_. Not in the way you’d recognize, I guess.”

Tom hopes that this Megan is right. He ponders for a moment how Alex would recognize _his_ perception of pleasure, how one could ever know what another being felt in ecstasy, but there is something more important right now to know. A pressing issue he would like to carefully address.

“You do enjoy this with me, the touch, the closeness now, yes?” His deep voice makes his chest rumble as he carefully turns them over and looks down at her. Her eyes widen but in curious excitement. “Would you be willing to try a new _flavor_ … Do you like what’s on the _menu_ this morning?”

Alex reaches up and kisses him slowly, while her hands wander down as he leans to one side, giving her room, avoiding any impression of confinement while stroking her face with his free hand.

“I do.” Her eyes glint. ”Observing you, while you experience pleasure…it’s very _satisfying_.”

“It makes you _glow_.” Tom struggles to remain still while the sole of her feet brush the back of his legs. He couldn’t say if she is aware of it.

“Yes.” She smiles shyly and resumes caressing her palms over his bare backside, until he sucks in a surprised breath when her hands changes path and find him hard. He stops her, keeping her still in sweet self torture.

“I need to know what you will be getting out of this. This cannot just be for me.” He holds his breath, looking at her intently, so she entwines their fingers, continues the movement and makes him part of her stroking him, sending sparks down to his toes and up to his fingertips.

“I get you, no? I get to kiss you and touch you and make you lose your mind, yes?” She pauses and looks at his lips, ”You kiss me and hold me and…I get to carry your heart?”

Tom leans to kiss her and taste her and wants to give her as much of his heavy heart as she can hold. But he wants to give her more. And to take more. But he is not willing to take unless she does, too. It pains him, physically as well as emotionally but he refuses her further attempts to touch him. For a moment he questions himself, _is this blackmail,_ at least of some sort? However, he knows he can’t do it any other way. He knows what he knows, feels what he feels. There is nothing wrong with her body, nothing broken. He can feel it humming under him, restrained, yes, but open not closed off or even unwilling. It’s the mind they need to conquer, to convince… no, not that but to let this formidable brain _experience_ first hand what he is indeed convinced is there, just out of reach for now, locked behind the steel bars of some belief set, implanted a long time ago. But they have time if this is what she wants.

Alex whines as he rolls fully on top of her, pinning her underneath him, forcing her into a sweet immobility. ”Tom, why won’t you let me touch you?”

“May I touch you in turn?”

“Of course.” She swallows dry. “Just don’t expect…”

“I repeat, I don’t expect anything… just… may I touch you?”

He is dead serious suddenly. She realizes he is looking for her explicit consent and it makes her stop cold. She thought she had made it clear that she was his, to do with as he pleases. But…no, not as he pleases, she realizes. He said it would not be pleasing for him if it wasn’t to her. She wants to give him what he yearns for but is the only thing she feels she does not have to give.

She struggles from his arms.

“You say you don’t expect anything, yet you do.”

He braids their fingers and pushes her arms gently up, next to her head on the mattress.

“You are right. Maybe I wasn’t clear. How about we just treat this as a _deal_ , just for a moment, just so we can get the rules of this _deal_ on the table. What is it you want and what is it you give?”

Alex is taken aback, caught in his intensity, but as twisted as it sounds, it also makes sense. She should be afraid of this powerful man hovering above her but she isn’t, only focused, her mind crystal clear. It seems trust does that to her.

“I want to give you what you want.”

He tilts his head slightly to the right.

“How can you be sure what it is I want?” His eyes are like blue glaciers in this moment. “Because as I said it certainly isn’t an orgasm. Well, maybe at the end of the list, but not on the top.”

She keeps silent so he leans down, hotly whispers at her ear, his lips caressing the sensitive skin. “Let me tell you what I want. First and foremost I want to get _my_ pleasure from giving you whatever it is _you want me to give_. Now you only need to tell me what it is _you_ want.” Their faces are so close their noses literally touch. She is breathing shallowly, but the reason is not his weight on her.

“Tom, this is a catch 22. I want to do the same, but it seems that puts us at an impasse.”

He eases off her a bit.

“That’s because we are trying to solve this intellectually. And yes, I know it was me who suggested it… because I need you to see that there is nothing to be done about this with the _mind_. And please stop pushing my _button_.“

Before she can get offended he gives her a smile. The boyish one. She realized she has been pressing up at him. Curiously, absolutely without intent.

“Yes, this one. You know exactly which one I mean. And even though I may _rise_ to the challenge, I refuse to play. Because this isn’t a game. This is us. Okay? Us. No one else here but you and me. We may not have the answer this instant but we will keep searching. Yes?“

Alex nods hesitantly. “If I understand you right, you will refuse me giving you pleasure, unless I let you fix me.” It seems she can still pull hard punches.

“No, I am not… refusing. And for the last time, there is nothing to fix. All I want is a fair chance at returning the… favor. I will touch you, if you will allow it, but I will refrain from me taking my own pleasure until I can provide the same.”

“But all this will bring, is frustration for _you_. I feel like I am setting you up for failure.” She is swallows again. “Setting _me_ up for failure.”

Tom looks taken aback, hurt, almost. But she can’t help it. After a moment he once again surprises her.

“Who defines _failure_? Who sets the goal post but you and I? This isn’t a competition. This will need to be a win/win. And the only people defining what a win is, are you and me. No? I know what I would consider a win. It is you in my arms, glowing. What is a win in your book?”

Alex doesn’t reply.

“Please do me the favor and think about it, yes?” Tom kisses her and gets up. “But now, I am starving. For food.”

She screams into her pillow when he leaves the room, then follows downstairs.

While they prepare breakfast, she finds she keeps avoiding Tom’s gaze, focusing on Toby. After a while however Tom effectively forces her to acknowledge him by standing still in her path to the table, looking at her lovingly, questioningly. She sighs.

“I know, I’m being a bit immature. I can’t help it.” She puts the cutlery on the table with a clang. “I still feel like I am withholding something, because it would be so easy to give you pleasure. I don’t understand why you won’t let me. You don’t need to worry about me. It would make me feel good to make you feel good. Maybe not in the same way but still.”

“Exactly. Do you think I might have a similar feeling, share that sentiment? That I want to make you feel good. Maybe not in the way you mean but still…”

That surprises her, he can tell and he smiles at the widening of her eyes, the moment of clarity.

She steps up to kiss him and whispers against his lips, “I didn’t realize.”

“Well, now you do.”

“I admit, I suspected it might be in part some kind of displaced…pity.”

He starts to vehemently disagree but she stills him and takes his face into her hands, focuses on his eyes.

“You know, you are a pretty unselfish person yourself, aren’t you

“Humbug. I'm the greediest creature in existence.”

They stand in the kitchen, caressing each other, breathing the other in and forgetting about the world in general, until the smell of burned eggs brings them back and into motion. After breakfast Tom starts a load of laundry and Alex, who had mercifully prepared, brought a third pair of undies, throws in the rest of her worn clothes from the past 2 days as well. He once again lends her a shirt from the guest stack and they head out for a stroll. Toby is absolutely joyful to have both of them walk him through the park, especially when after a while the leash comes off and he is free to roam, to run circles around them and bring sticks to throw.

They hold hands as they wander and there is a blessed silence. Just a fellow walker or runner once in a while, some dog owner, or a biker. Some birds. Peace in the middle of chaos, on a Friday morning in the heart of London. The sun tickles the fresh and moist greenery.

“Persephone is allowed to return from the underworld,” Alex declares dreamily.

“How poetic. Do you see everything through the lens of Greek mythology? All I was thinking is, I need to hire a gardener for the backyard.”

Tom is half joking but Alex observes, “Spring is beauty, and today it is everywhere.”

He halts and takes her cool cheeks in his warm hands.

“You are so right. It is. And how can we not stop and stare?” He kisses her reverently.

She giggles at the unintended rhyme and they are interrupted by Toby barking wildly in the distance.

Tom leans his forehead against hers.

“And here we go again. The duck pond.”

It turns out for some reason Toby thinks he belongs to a flock of geese and joins them enthusiastically, swimming towards and between them, and being deeply disappointed when they finally have enough of the intruder and take flight. He leaves the pond with a sigh and shake, that makes Tom and Alex grin at each other. They decide to have lunch at a small place that offers every single meal based on avocado and it is delicious, however they end up packing the food to go since Toby is dripping but even worse, smells disgustingly like pond water and they are being eyed by the other customers.

“He’s your dog, you bath him.”

“You were in charge of the leash and he got away from you, so you bath him.”

“Only because you kissed me, so it’s your fault.”

“I only kissed you because I couldn’t help myself… I am not to be trusted around you.”

Alex unlocks the door as they bicker and feels a bit dizzy as Tom suddenly stops her from entering, turns her on the doorstep, which puts her at a rare height advantage, and kisses her. The different angle is doing something to her brain, she feels powerful and plunges in enthusiastically, which throws Tom a bit off balance. Toby of course uses this moment to rush into the house. Neither of them cares.

After a while she hesitantly lets go and whispers against his lips. “Okay, I bath him, you take care of the mess he’s surely caused by now in the house.”

They finally enjoy a lunch. In bed. 

After wrestling, washing and drying Toby, Alex had needed a shower herself and Tom had worked up a sweat cleaning the floor and carpet as well. When everyone was dry, the bed seemed such a nice option for a quick nap they just took the containers and had a picnic. The laundry circled in the dryer, Alex put on a shirt and boxers Tom provided, and after being sated with the remainders of the take away, crawled under the sheets, immediate joined by Toby, while Tom did the gentlemanly thing and cleaned up the left overs in the kitchen.

“You, are the most beautiful thing in the world.” Alex coos at Toby, who is blissed out on his back, Alex combing her fingers through his gleaming and soft fur as she keeps cuddling him. “I have no idea how I could think I could ever live without you.”

Tom leans in the door and smiles at the two in his bed, hearing his thought echoed out loud. This had already been the most wonderful day and he wasn’t even _in_ the bed yet. Alex turns around and smiles at him, making space. “And you as well. What are you waiting for? Join?”

The daylight is dimming and they are still in bed. 

Well, Toby eventually wanted to defend the backyard and left them behind. Tom doesn’t mind too much. Alex is lazy and pliant and he delights in first peeling her out of his shirt – once again the possessive mood caused by the realization that she wears something of _his_ is puzzling – then slowly stroking and kissing and discovering her ticklish places.

They agreed that he gets to do this for thirty minutes and then it’s her turn.

However she cannot see the display of his mobile, and he won’t be the one to mention that his time has been up for a while.

“So, when are you leaving for New York?” Alex is dreamily relaxed, while Tom is by now working very hard – no pun intended – to appear to be as well.

“On Sunday morning, but I’ll be back on Tuesday evening.”

“Oh, that is very short.”

“I was actually thinking it is way too long.” He towers over her, holding her face in awe but also a bit sad.

Alex looks at him, mirroring his expression. “That, too.”

“But before I leave, you could come to a dinner thing with me, meet a few people tomorrow evening?”

“More friends, like Kai and Ben? At somebody’s house?”

“Uhm, no, it is more of a ‘ _see-and-be-seen-thing_ ’, at a gallery, I think. Kai hates them. She says the food usually sucks, and she’s not very good at pretending to find boring people interesting…”

“Oh, but you want me to go.”

“I am greedy, did I not mention this. It’s one more chance to spend time with you before I leave. We won’t see each other for 4 days otherwise.”

Alex feels her heart beat strangely at that thought. Tom can see her inner turmoil and regrets his slight attempt at gentle coercion instantly.

“Listen, I would love for you to be there with me, but I can see you are uncomfortable at the thought. It’s fine.”

“Is it, really?”

Toms kisses her nose in answer. “Of course. I’ll call you before you go to bed?”

“That would be lovely.”

“And I’ll call you Sunday morning from the airport?” He kisses her nose again and because he can see her thought process, adds, “I will drop off Toby at Ben’s place tomorrow. They will take him to the farm for a few days; Toby loves it there.”

“Oh. I would have taken him, you know?”

“I do… however Kai threatened to sue me for custody unless she got to see him.”

“I don’t think this is how these things work.”

“Maybe not, but then, you don’t know Kai yet.”

Alex tries to reach for the phone but Tom deters her.

“What’s it like when I kiss you… here?”

Alex giggles.

“Mhm. That wasn’t the reaction I was going for… how about if I do this?”

Tom laps at her neck playfully, then folds their hands and pushes them up to rest on both sides on the pillow, next to her head. He by now knows that she shows a wonderfully positive reaction to this minor display of tender dominance, and moves slowly, kissing down her collar bone, while she very faintly struggles against his hold, not in resistance, but in unexpected delight.

Yet she inhales at some point, startled at him sucking at her side, just below her breast, and stills.

“Is that a good one or rather not?”

She doesn’t seem to know herself and he understands, gives up the game and let’s her take him into her arms.

She sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing to be sorry for, love. Just tell me? So I know better, next time?”

She sighs again.

“What you don’t know is how I love what you do and then suddenly… it somehow stops and I cannot relax or enjoy it anymore. It’s like I reach the end of the road and I observe myself, I tell myself to go on but I can’t. It’s like my brain switches on and my body off. And then everything is too bright and numb at the same time.”

She sits up regretfully and leaves to use the guest bathroom, so he gets himself ready for the night as well. When she returns, he sits on the bed cross legged, his hair still wet from the shower, a bottle of lotion in his hands, looking at her questioningly.

“I hear massages do wonders to relax.” Alex remains standing in the doorway and Tom beckons her. “Come closer?”

“This isn’t going to work.” She sits on the bed.

“Come closer, please? This is okay, the touching, right?”

Tom lays her out on the bed on her front, kissing down her exposed vertebra, as she struggles to answer.

“It’s okay, lovely even, but it won’t change how I…”

“I don’t want to change how you are. I want you exactly as you are.”

“Can I close my eyes?”

“Will it help... or will it maybe just hinder... if you are alone in there?”

She is stunned at his insight. And then he starts to smoothly distribute the lotion on her back. Eyes wide open, fingers trembling, breath held, she exhales as there is…no pain. _This will bring no pain_ , she chants inwardly.

Pleasure though might just be as scary, she realizes an eternal moment later.

“Let us try,” Tom whispers. “As long as both of us feel pleasure, the way _we_ define it. Without any goal post… Let us try?”


	13. Saturday, April 25

## 6:30 GMT

_Character is destiny._

_―_ _Heraclitus_

Alex feels like she is under water, very much like in her dream the previous night. But she is awake. Most definitely awake.

Everything is light and soft and somehow muted. She floats, can feel Tom’s body beneath her and is aware it is being purposefully guarded, and at the same time she thinks, he might just be one second away from cracking. One moment from giving up on his control and taking over - but the voices in her head are curiously silent. She knows he won’t give up, neither on his restraint nor on her, that he wants her like this - that she is allowed to feel as much, or as little as she does, no finish line to be worried about. Tom will tell her if it gets too much, as she will tell him. Both will stop at the blink of an eye.

Last night Alex had been relaxed, more than relaxed, supple even, when Tom had finished the head to toe massage. Her initial alertness to each of his touches had given way to a dreamlike trance, in which she gave herself over fully to the smooth hypnotic pressure and comforting gentleness of his movements, his softly murmured endearments. As matter of fact she had dozed off for a while, and only noticed he had gone and taken a shower when the mattress moved as he got back into bed. With barely open eyes she had stretched out her arms contently towards him and fallen asleep again to the feeling of his damp hair brushing her nose.

So now, this morning, it’s her turn, he will let her do whatever she wants, as long as she wants, and he has made it clear that whatever she gets from it, from him, will be what he wants as well. A pleasure loop. Of the unconventional kind.

Tom’s breathing is labored and his voice very deep as he attempts to speak but in the end doesn’t and just moans. His self-imposed torture, it impresses her. Excites her. So much so, she doesn’t want to stop. Not this time. She wants it for herself, and she wants it for him. And tells him so. His assent sounds like a grateful prayer and she exhales in joy.

Him halting at the edge, it’s not needed, not necessary. She _wants_ him to plunge and as the wonder underneath her takes her breath away, and his body rises, her body feels weightless on top of it; heat, friction, and with nothing to focus on but his skin, nothing to think about but which place to lick and taste next - she takes. Takes him. Takes him in her hands and mouth, in her heart, in her soul. Takes him over the edge, and more, swallows his moans and his hot seed, as he spends himself trembling, shivering.

When Tom comes down from his high, she is still curiously alight with the thrill of seeing him, hearing him like that. Blanketing herself over his exhausted form she seeks his heated closeness, plunders his slack mouth, and yearns. His hands slowly revive, touching, stroking and her heart starts racing as if preparing for flight. But not this time. This time she is running toward something, not away.

Tom begins to slowly turn them, shifting her weight from above to under him. He kisses her, slightly unfocused, but she can feel the tender beast in him awaken and although she is far from certain, she wants to try. He notices her tiny hesitation. Of course he does. He gentles his approach. But before he can say anything, she takes his hand in hers, kisses the tips of his fingers and guides them towards her stomach, stops as he for a moment seems doubtful but directs him further down. She exhales slowly, while Tom seems to hold his breath; Alex revels at the sure strength and heat of his touch through the material of the shorts as he cups her, gently flexes his palm, and uses the heel of his hand to press against her, sending tiny sparks everywhere. Alex shudders in open eyed astonishment. 

“Let’s try...”, she encourages him as he takes his hand away for a moment, hovers undecided in the air.

This has become their mantra, her safety net, _let's try_... and he nods with a tiny smile, brings his mouth to her chest, and moves his hands down again over her belly.

When his fingers slip under the waistband she shivers and even more so when she feels cool air caressing her face as he descends and hot breath washes over her moist folds. She anticipates the touch of his tongue but becomes still nonetheless when it happens. The glow is there, but at the fringes the wheels are starting to turn, distracting. She is too focused on _his_ intense eyes looking up at her, on _his_ excitement but at the same time _his_ concern.

The edge she watched him climb earlier before, it evaporates like mist in the morning sun. Still beautiful but receding and elusive, Tom’s focus on her reactions, it distracts her and she is almost relieved when he slowly kisses his way up again, pausing for a while over her belly button, leaving butterfly kisses on the sensitive skin of her breasts, finally nestling his forehead there, exhaling, collecting his wits.

“What a wonderful way to wake up. Good morning, love.”

His warm breath on her skin causes goosebumps, she feels the urge to laugh and scream at the same time as she instinctively clasps his thigh between her legs, frustrated, not willing yet to stop the hunt. She pushes her thoughts to the back of her mind, and with her shoulder up against him to turn, so he is on his back and she can grind herself against the hard muscle. She can _try_.

Alex strokes his hair and kisses his temples, Tom can’t take his eyes from her as she chases, selfishly, for the first time, and it is the intensity of the stare that makes her pause once more. The elusive sensation she is pursuing comes and goes in waves, and his suppressed panting spurs her on and holds her back at the same time. She can sense he doesn’t want to intrude, interfere, and holds himself rigid as she seeks the new phenomenon, which she does not dare call pleasure because she cannot feel it, she is broken, is … She freezes. Closes her eyes, and inwardly retracts, instinctively wants to retreat, hide.

Tom soothes her, takes her face in his hands. Waits. She wants to refuse to open her eyes for a moment. However, when she does eventually whatever she expected to see in his face is not there. Only his brilliant eyes and his love and happiness.

Tom rests her cheek on his collarbone while he cards through her hair. He catalogs the softness of the swell of her breasts, the tiny buds being teased by his chest hair; still tastes her lips and her frustration. He focuses on the smell of her skin, the slight movement of her rib cage as she breathes, in and out; the tantalizing promise of the cradle of her silky legs, the warm humidity where his pelvis meets hers. He carefully puts all these sensations in a mental treasure box and searches for a latch big enough to keep his reactions to them locked away, for the time being.

He pulls the blanket on top of them, cocoons them for a few more moments in their bubble of acceptance and content.

“Have you ever - I mean, by yourself…?” Tom stops and she takes a moment to understand.

“…Orgasmed? No, I don’t think.” Alex is slightly uncomfortable with him so intently watching her, but she wants to give him this, honesty, at least. “Maybe…in dreams?” 

“Were you dreaming? I mean yesterday morning? You said something like that.”

“Yes, I think I was.” She takes his lower lip with her teeth and pulls tenderly, licks at his mouth and can feel his half hard penis at her thighs.

Time stands still.

The alarm goes off. Tom fumbles for his phone, and while muting it, begs her to ignore it. She keeps kissing him but moves from his body in fractions and his arms don’t seriously hold her back. He knows their moment of zero gravity is up.

Time waits for no one.

Her nose is very close to his, as she tries to judge his mood, without glasses.

“Are we okay? We keep trying, and… it’s still true?”

“You mean, the part about you being my wonder?” His answer to her tentative nod is immediate and wholeheartedly. “Yes.“ He brings her face even closer and licks her lips open, plunges in her mouth a moment later, unable to help himself. “The part about trying…Yes!”

He burns to ask a similar question but senses that there are so many firsts happening, asking her for this on top would not be fair. She will come to him, tell him, and let him have whatever she is comfortable with, in her own time.

As she gets up, he shadows her to the bathroom.

“I know what I said last night but please come with me.” He declares this through to the closed bathroom door with his forehead resting against the wood. She answers with her mouth full of toothpaste.

“Come on, it’s like me asking you to attend the _International Conference on Languages & Linguistics_ with me - you wouldn’t like that, would you?”

“Of course I would.”

“Of course he would,” she mumbles while rinsing her mouth and finishes up by putting her products back in her bag.

“Call me when you…“ he stops her from speaking with a kiss, the second she opens the door, her overnight items in hand, and dropping them with a clatter. He gently crowds her against the wall, nosing under her ear, making her shiver and forget all about the spilled toiletries.

“I know you need to go to work, but I am enchanted with this amazingly smart, beautiful woman and I want to show her off. These things are tedious, I’ll give you that, but if we are together it will be less so and I don’t think I will survive... without... kissing... you...”, he punctuates this with small caresses to her neck.

“Tom…” she is almost ready to give in, but he comes to his senses just in time.

“I’m sorry, I’m selfish. Forgive me?”

“Nothing to forgive. I will miss you. Call me tonight. But I need to run now.”

It’s a regular Saturday, so it gets quiet around 13:30, and she has time to call Severine after talking with Beata to check on Arthur.

“It lives!” Severine exclaims and sounds not just cynical but also a bit livid.

“I’m sorry. I did send you a text.”

“Yes. My best friend in the world is dating for the first time in a decade and all I get is _‘I am ok, please do not worry, will call you soon.’_ ”

“ _Pardonne moi_ … please?”

“Are you really okay? Because that is all I want to know. Can you finally see that not every man is like Martin? Is he treating you right? Have you stayed at his place yet?”

Alex sighs. “Yes, yes, yes and yes.”

“Oh, fine, then we can hang up now, since you so _generously_ shared in 4 words what happened _in the whole last week!”_

“I’m sorry.“ Alex truly is. But she also didn’t know what to tell Severine before, and how, and had put it off. But she won’t be a coward anymore. “I did call to tell you now. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. But go on. And be quick, because I know you will hang up on me, the moment someone comes into the store.”

Alex sighs. “That is true, so maybe I should call you tonight. You deserve better than a rushed summary.”

“Don’t you dare! I want to know _now_. You can still call me tonight with more details, and now, dish.”

“I’m not sure where to start.”

“Well, the last thing I heard was that he kissed you after the theatre and that you enjoyed dinner. I had hoped you would ask him up for coffee but I understand you are cautious. The cherry on top can wait until you trust him and know he is worth it.”

“Well…”

“What? Don’t tell me you did ask him up?!?”

“Of course not, what makes you think I would have waited days to tell you that?”

“Then what is this ‘ _well’_ supposed to mean?”

“It means, nothing happened on Tuesday after the play. However, I stayed at his place, the last three nights.”

Severine is silent.

Whether from shock or to simply not interrupt her is not clear, so Alex keeps going. This will be the first time ever for her to share any kind of detail of the intimate kind. In the past it was typically Severine who had something to share. And those details usually stayed rather…opaque.

“We didn’t have sex, but I made him come.” Alex rushes out.

Severine stays silent.

“Severine, can you please say something?”

There is a noise as Severine clears her throat and hesitantly states: “That doesn’t sound too romantic? Or pleasurable for you?”

“I enjoyed it.” Alex sounds defiant.

“I thought, maybe he was not what you had hoped for. You do tend to set very high expectations. For yourself, and others. It’s usually either all, or nothing.”

“You do have a way with words today…” Alex had expected all kinds of reactions but not this one. Severine continues.

“What I mean, honey, is that it’s okay if it wasn’t all fireworks. It’s not black or white. My first time with Maurice was rather lukewarm and we worked our way up there. I know you think we are the perfect couple but let me tell you that took work. It’s not enough to have the hots for each other, you need to get to know what he likes, and also you need to teach him what makes you swoon. Men are a bit slow, as you know, we need to educate them in how to please us.”

“I don’t think he needs education in that area, exactly.”

“Meaning…?”

Alex wanders back and forth between the medieval medical text section and the window display. How to explain to your sister, your _family_ , that this isn’t about fluffy romance but hard facts. Sex, not romance. Bodily functions, responses deviating from the mean, worse, the lack of responses. The heat of embarrassment climbs up her neck and face but she wants to be as honest with Severine, finally, in this one area that was never explicitly discussed. Not because she didn’t trust her but she was ashamed to admit to being not as perfect as Severine might think. But as she searches for the right words, Severine goes on impatiently.

“Or are you seriously still hung up on the whole looks thing? That he is too pretty?”

That part, Alex is confident to clear up immediately.

“No, it was never really about what he looks like. Neither way, too pretty or too unkempt. He is just right. Or rather it really does not matter. I simply was searching for a reason to not like him.“

To hear it spoken like that, is a surprise to both of them. It’s crystal clear to Alex and she is able to verbalize it calmly.

“I think I wanted to avoid to get myself in the situation to disappoint him. And in turn, myself.”

“I have no idea what you mean, why disappoint yourself?” 

“I think, there was a part that fooled myself, about the real reason, in order to protect myself.”

She sorts her jittery thoughts.

“I respected him immediately that first day, and he was even more likable after the next.“

She again stops to think and Severine knows her well enough to not interrupt this time, even though she is dumbfounded.

“I wanted to protect myself from being foolish. From believing I could be what he wanted. I was hiding behind reasons that made sense at that point, but now I see them for what they were - excuses. A part of me always trusted him, and _that_ was the problem. It was unexplainable, unreasonable to do so. He is decent and kind and wonderful... I want him in my life. But I am afraid I won’t be able to keep him.“

“I am sorry but right now you aren’t making any sense at all. I thought this was about comparing him to Martin or Pierre? About letting him close, assuming he would hurt you?”

Alex sighs.

“This isn’t about letting him close to my heart. He has that and it seems I have his, at least for now.” She takes a deep breath. “This is about my body.”

“Stop it right there, you are beautiful and there is nothing wrong with the way you look.”

“No, you are right, there isn’t. It’s how I react.”

Severine swears explicitly in French, unable to suppress her frustration. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

“We never talked about why I really stayed away from relationships after Martin.”

“You were hurt and scared and over careful… ?”

“Yes, that too… but…it made no sense to pursue a relationship, because there was no incentive for me - or them. I didn’t enjoy it. I didn’t want it.”

The silence between them is very loud.

“The… sex, I mean. Not before, not with Martin. And after him, well, why bother? There is no point in buying a book when I can’t read it, is there?”

Severine is speechless and Alex needs to fill the void, needs to explain, but lacks the words.

“You are so intuitive with these things, so effortless. I didn’t think it would make sense to you. You love sex. And I don’t. I was ashamed. embarrassed. I knew you would say the right one would take me as I am, and it would happen…but it hurt too much, to just think about the rejection and I couldn’t bear the thought of being not good enough.”

“So you thought I would make you buy books, while Martin overused his library card, and you believed, it was justified because you couldn’t read…? You thought you actually caused this, in some way?”

There is a reason Severine is her best friend in the world.

“In a way, yes?”

Hearing it like that is terrible and makes Alex comprehend how it must sound to Severine. But her friend surprises her yet again. She doesn’t blame.

“ _Ne sois pas ridicule_! You cannot help the way you are made.”

“I know that. And I thought I had accepted it. I had moved on.”

“And then came Tom.” Severine says.

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t want to admit your… _illiteracy_ to him.”

“Yes.”

Severine takes a deep breath, “But something has changed?”

“I could say it was because he persisted, but to be honest … I _felt_ something.”

Alex leans her head against the book shelf with multi language versions of the _Divine Comedy_. “I tried to explain to him, badly, but he listened, and he doesn’t agree that it’s me, that it’s my fault. He refuses to give up on… _teaching me to read_. He is a patient instructor.”

“And you didn’t expect _that_ from another human being. To stand on your side of the argument. Not from him, not from me.”

“Severine, please don’t be hurt. I don't truly understand it myself; how can I expect anyone else to?”

Severine tries hard for her bruised feelings to not be heard. “Look, this isn’t about making sense, at least not to another person. If it’s not clear by now, let me state it loudly. I take you the way you are. I don’t understand your passion for Greek, your obsession with shoes. Or why you thought not to tell me all about this before. But I don’t need to understand. I love you. It’s what makes you _you_. I love you. All of you.”

“Still?”

“Of course. Always.”

“How would you think of me if I wouldn’t like you to touch me in a certain way, or say, hug me?”

“You know, I express myself by being tactile - but if you wouldn’t want that, I’d find other ways.” Severine adds very quietly. “He will find another way.”

When Alex doesn’t react she keeps going.

“Friendships, relationships are about our souls recognizing each other, not the eyes. The body wanes, sooner or later it will let us down. But never the soul. Why didn’t you feel you could share this with me?”

“I have faith in you. In our friendship. It’s that I didn’t want you to see this shameful part of me. Forgive me. I know better now.”

“You better do! There is nothing shameful about you. You are the most beautiful soul I know, and there is nothing that could convince me otherwise.”

“Even if I were to murder someone.” Alex sniffs, relieved, and luckily finds a half empty box of tissues in the shelf under the cash register.

“Well, in that case they had it coming, and I would of course help you hide the body, while Maurice would call our lawyer.“

When Alex closes up the store, she receives a message from Tom. She absentmindedly had put the phone in the back pocket of her jeans after she’d said good bye to Severine, and forgotten about it, so the buzz is a bit of a surprise.

It’s a picture of some artfully arranged tiny canapés and a huge champagne pyramid. It states, ‘ _I should have listened to you and eaten before getting here’._

She replies. _‘Told you so.’_

When she gets on the bus the next picture she receives shows a lot of feet in expensive dress shoes and dangerous high heels. ‘ _Met some friends, but they don’t believe you exist’_.

She replies. ‘ _And what am I supposed to do about that?_ ’

She realizes she needs to buy groceries and walks back to the Tesco she just passed.

 _‘Short of coming by, sending a selfie would be nice’,_ and a moment later, _‘Realized I don’t have even one picture of you’._

She replies. ‘ _Not everyone has 19 million Google images of themselves on hand.’_

It’s almost nine when she gets home and sees his reply. ‘ _There are some hits on Google for your name, but strangely enough, no pics, why is that?’_

She thinks about that. And takes a picture of her bare feet in the soft, homey slippers she just put on. _‘Here you go. Enjoy the evening’._

When she comes out of the shower at almost midnight, and finally - having finished sorting laundry, putting away groceries, generally puttering around after 3 days away from home - crawls exhausted into bed, her phone shows 3 more messages.

‘ _Why are you torturing me?!?’_

‘ _Are you still awake?_ ’

‘ _Please DO NOT google my name until we’ve spoken’_


	14. Sunday, April 26

## 00:15 GMT

_He who lives in harmony with himself lives in harmony with the universe._

_\- Marcus Aurelius_

Of course Alex googles his name immediately but finds nothing noteworthy but a mention of the event Tom is at right now, with some photos of him in a group of people enjoying themselves as well as him hugging a beautiful woman, probably another _movie star_.

Alex ponders the pictures of him laughing. It doesn’t look like he is aware of these photos being taken. She can almost hear his chuckle, is sure she could by now blindly recognize him just by this sound alone, she'd heard it so many times over the past 2 weeks. _Has it been only 2 weeks?_ It seems much longer that Tom is a perpetual presence in her mind, not distracting or intruding, rather a calming background feature. A guarding shadow, not restricting - instead, a calm reassurance, always just behind her, but within reach.

Tom feels so familiar, the effortless varieties of his many smiles for her, his gentle, kind, intelligent eyes, his earthy smell and taste, and his encouraging touch, that can say more than a thousand words.

His touch.

Alex notes the shivers this thought sends through her.

His touch.

She still isn’t sure what happened yesterday morning when they were together, when she felt something, more than just _something_ , when she almost…didn't freeze. She has been consciously evading this train of thought all day, it has been nagging at her all the same.

Was what she had experienced with Tom, was this cloud-like feeling, nebulous and somehow vague yet insistent and almost imperative… was that what she thought it was?

Once his gentle touch over the last days had become not just pleasing but an extension of his dependable, almost stoic acceptance and belief in her; once his touch had not been foreign but the opposite, had been the natural expansion of his affection for her, his devotion made flesh… once she welcomed it, opened up to it, there was no going back. The small crack had become a crevasse, and she found she didn’t want to stop the incoming flood.

Alex cups her curiously aching breasts with her hand, almost against her will moves the fabric out of the way, brushes the tip that immediately hardens and almost painfully strains. Yes, she recognizes this alien, and at the same time glorious sensation, and her next thought is of Tom, his lips sucking at her peaks and just like that she moans. Not loud but from deep within.

It seems irrational now, but she remembers the force of the yearning yesterday, and how she almost didn’t care about anything but that moment with Tom, did not care…until she wanted it too much, started to question herself, became too self conscious.

Alex sits up and pulls the neckline of her loose night shirt back up to cover her breast, the material of the shirt teasing the still hard nub. She breathes consciously and slows her heart. At least a bit.

Looking back at her phone she keeps reading from the small screen, refuses to call this _online_ _item_ an _article_ for the life of her.

Oh.

Ex-girlfriend.

For a moment she observes her reaction to that, then distracts herself from the queasy feeling in her stomach by musing at how ridiculous the word _girlfriend_ sounds in connection with a grown man.

Is _she_ a girlfriend now?

She’d much rather be called a partner. _Be_ a partner.

Anyhow, it states _ex_ in the text, and she thinks she even recalls him mentioning the name before, plus they are at a party with his friends. Everyone has exes. Not everyone has reasons to despise them once their ways parted.

She isn’t sure if this is what got him worried, and he doesn’t pick up the phone when she tries to call so she leaves a short message, wishing him a good night and that she looks forward to hearing from him in the morning from the airport, as agreed.

It’s still dark outside, when she is rudely awakened by her doorbell.

“What are you doing here, shouldn’t you be on your way to the airport?”

Tom stands before her looking tired and worried.

“I’m on my way there, and I apologize for waking you, but I needed to explain in person.”

“Explain what?” She questions as she rubs her eyes.

“So you actually did as I asked?” he looks disbelieving as he says that.

“You mean the googling? Of course I didn’t. I thought I’d find you accused of unspeakable things and instead you were just off, having fun at a party. As you had told me.” She is confused at his silence and adds, “And by the way I am still glad I didn’t have to go. I really don’t own a single dress like that. Or the right shoes.”

“You didn’t see the pictures of me with Norah?”

“If you mean your ex- _girlfriend_ , then yes, I did. Tom, what’s the problem?”

He just looks at her.

“I’m not sure.”

She tightens her terry robe and feels the cold floor under her bare soles.

“Shouldn’t you be at the airport?” she repeats, still half asleep.

“Yes. Probably.”

Tom steps very close and brushes her wild hair out of the way, holds her face gently, adjusting her low sitting glasses before kissing her.

“I don’t know why I thought it would be a big deal.”

“What are you talking about?”

He chuckles and hugs her tight into his chest, speaking close to her ear.

“For some unfathomable reason I thought you might be upset. There may have been some issues with that in the past.”

“With what?”, she asks, her voice muffled by his coat, holding on to him, puzzled by the intensity of the hug. Enjoying it, nonetheless.

“I guess, some people would be… jealous, maybe?”

“Of what?”

“Some people may have been upset by pictures of me kissing an ex partner.”

“Hold it… kissing?”

He steps back and raises his hands in front of him.

“I swear it, just friendly and on the cheek and I…”

Alex chuckles, almost awake now, “Tom, calm down, I’m just teasing. These things you go to, even though you meet friends and have fun, they are like, your job, right?”

He nods carefully.

“So should I be worried, when you do what is your job, talk with colleagues and maybe see a former partner?” She takes his coat lapels and pulls him close to her.

He holds on to her wrists and strokes them gently with his thumbs.

“No, I guess not, if you put it like that.”

She nods, satisfied.

“I assume most actors have partners and spouses and they don’t get upset with them for doing what is part of their job?”

Shaking his head, he smiles.

“I don’t believe what I see in a movie, why should I believe this? Especially from a dirty newspaper site?”

“You trust me.” He finally says.” Even though this cockalorum…”

Alex interrupts him. She doesn’t ever again want Martin to get between her and her happiness. Between her and Tom. It’s time.

“I do trust you. You told me that you…that I carry your heart. And you carry mine, and you will be careful and respectful with it. As I am with yours. This is between you and me; it has nothing to do with anyone else.”

“Yes.” He sighs and kisses her again. “I don’t know why I didn’t realize it until now but you wouldn’t do this to me, ergo you don’t believe I would do this to you.”

“Exactly.” She looks at him intently.” I not only believe but _know_. We have a deal.”

His phone rings in his pocket.

“You still need to get to the airport, right?”

“Yes. But I am so glad I came by.”

“Me too.”

Alex smiles all the way to see Arthur, through tube, bus, and rain.

“Arthur, I need to tell you something. I met someone.”

“Young lady, this is a lecture on _Phaedo_. Stop chatting.“

“I know. I’m sorry to interrupt. But I need to tell you.”

“Sit down, be quiet and take notes. I will be free for questions after.”

Alex does as she is told and enjoys listening to her father’s lecture in the empty dining hall, as she has done on numerous occasions. Interestingly enough, she learns something new every time. Arthur finishes the lecture as always with one of his favorite quotes: ‘ _Death smiles at us all, but all a man can do is smile back_.’

She stands up as he collects his notes and they get tea.

“Arthur, can I ask you something? It’s really important to me.”

He looks at her and nods, his eyes clear.

“How did you know Mum…your wife, was the one for you?”

“We just knew.“ He shrugs and looks around searchingly. ”Do you think there are some more sweets to go with the tea?”

That was… unhelpful. She gets up to get more biscuits.

“But how? How did you know you could place your trust in someone who was basically a stranger to you?” And she clarifies after a moment.” How did you know when it all was so quick?”

“How could I not? It was her. She was it. Time didn’t matter.“

Alex hands him the box of biscuits. And finally she stops questioning herself.

It’s exactly what she knows she feels for Tom, what she tried to dissect and argue away in her head when she knew it was true in her heart. Why she kept coming back, why she would let him close despite her trepidation, and why she was willing to drop her defenses. Why, even in the short time she’d known him, she would go to the ends of the earth for him, not listening to anything but him, not looking back and trusting he would follow. Because he was it. It was _him_.

“Did you ever consider what would happen if she had not been the one?”

“Never. There was no option but her.”

“You didn’t need time to think it over?”

Arthur nibbles another Hobnob and takes a sip of the by now cold tea.

“When you know, you know. They look at you, they see who you truly are, and you find there is no need to hide from their gaze. The rest is just details.” 

They sit together for a while in companionable silence and Alex leaves finally when he tells her he needs time to prepare his lectures for the next day and it will be dark soon, and he wouldn’t want a young lady to be out there all alone.

When Tom calls late that night she is already asleep but glad he wakes her. He apologizes for the hour but she won’t let him.

“I’m glad to hear your voice.”

“I miss you.” He sounds tired.

“You’ve been barely gone a day.” Alex teases him but feels the same. And yawns.

“I haven’t seen you in more than 18 hours. And I am one ocean and five time zones away. I miss you terribly.”

Alex closes her eyes against the sting and sighs.

“I miss you too, but just another 2 days and you will be back on the same soil. Until then you will be busy with glamorous movie stuff and I will be busy selling books. Piece of cake.”

“You are taking this awfully…. effortlessly. And even though a part of me wants to be glad you are, the other is questioning how you’re taking this so easily in stride. And if it will stay like that.“

“What, you mean, you traveling?” Alex sits up and switches on the light. ”I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear, I do miss you. I just don’t want it to make it harder for you than it already must be, by complaining.“

“No, that’s not what I meant, however glad I am to know it.” Tom is quiet for a moment. “Last night, there was some alcohol at play and there are more pictures out now, and they really don’t make me look too good.”

“I promise I won’t google, but even if I did, I told you, I won’t believe anything I read or see – unless you confirm it.”

There is silence, from the other side of the ocean, and Alex asks, “Tom?”

“It’s just… it’s unusual, this blind trust.”

“Are you saying you don’t believe me?”

“No, the opposite. I’m saying I believe you despite it being so unbelievable.”

“I trusted you with my deepest secret, my biggest fear. Unless or until you prove me wrong, I will always believe you.”

“You mean that.”

“I do.” Alex hears traffic in the background. And his loud yawn. “ Go to bed, you must be exhausted.”

“I would love to, but I have two meetings and a dinner. But I should be at the hotel in a few minutes and I will at least take a long hot shower, that will wake me up. My shoulders feel like boulders.”

She senses he still has something else to say.

“Alex, I know it’s late for you but can we talk about what happened on Saturday?”

“What happened? You mean at your party?”

“No. I mean, in the morning, between us. And, well. Maybe also at the party.”

_“Oh.”_

__

## Sunday 23:30 GMT

_Waste no more time arguing what a good man should be. Be one._

_– Marcus Aurelius_

Tom could literally hear heavy iron gates dropping to lock him out of the fortress that was her heart.

“No, stop that thought right here. You misunderstand me. Bloody hell, I shouldn’t have brought this up now or over the phone.“ He scrubbed his face with his hands, glad for the partition separating him from the driver. “But it’s been killing me. I’ve been thinking about it nonstop, on the whole flight, while I should be focusing on work… Alex… are you there?”

“Yes, I am, but I have a hard time following you.”

“I mean, after what happened in the morning, I had been grinning all day, after I dropped off Toby I sang along with the radio in the car to the _Spice Girls_ , for gods sake! I missed you at the party and everyone was teasing me about the mystery girlfriend… which I didn’t mind, I just had to celebrate life in general and you my love, especially… and when I realized that these pictures had been not just been taken at the most inopportune moment, but directly published as to allow to spin a specific unfavorable story line… My heart stopped, I texted you and wanted to get immediately into a taxi to see you, but Luke, rational bugger that he is, pointed out that showing up drunk at your doorstep would not help my case. So I went to bed, I only saw your missed call in the morning. I should have told you all that when we saw each other earlier today.”

“Tom, I appreciate you telling me all this now but this anxiety is unnecessary. I trust you.” Alex tried to infuse the statement with all the sincerity she felt. ”Heart and soul.”

Tom was pensive for a moment, “And your flesh, too.”

“I’m not sure I understand…?”

“Your body. You start to trust me with it.” Tom sounded almost reverent as he recalled that morning. “That is why I was so _exuberant_. I could tell this morning, it wasn’t just your intellect that trusted me but your body, too. In small steps you have given me in the past days not just access to your mind and soul. You left behind whatever it was that had kept you locked in…hibernation; I could see you giving up on the tight leash of thought and control… It floored me. Made me stupid with delight. Happy. I should have told you that this morning, too.”

Alex cleared her voice.

“I probably wouldn’t have put it quite so poetically. But thank you.”

“How would you describe it?” Tom wasn’t biting his nails. He most definitely was _not_.

“I’d have most likely phrased it more like…that I may have been presented with new evidence and the hypothesis I have been operating under, in all probability…it needs to be revised.”

Tom laughed, exuberant and reassured.

“Tom, I mean…I want to keep _trying._ ”

“Yes, love, we will.”

Tom was out of the cab and in his room in record time, the soft bed calling his name though at the moment, only the shower was possible. He usually didn’t bother bringing toiletries, he relied on the hotels to provide needed essentials, except for a comb and toothbrush, lotion (yes, with SPF and hydrating components but that was no ones business but his own) and sometimes his shaving kit, but on this trip not even that. However, this time he _had_ brought a small bottle of shower gel and grinned happily as he lathered himself in silky foam, smelling of heaven and Alex.

Oh Alex.

She had been breathtaking that morning, the early sun light dancing on her skin, as he watched her finding her pleasure and letting him partake in her first triumphant attempt to swim out to the open sea, discovering exotic foreign lands. With him.

He grinned at himself, she truly brought out the poet in him.

He sped up his efforts as he remembered how Alex had gloriously _used_ him, so beautifully lost for even just some moments in sensation, and that thought made him even harder, made him shiver, his fist moving desperately now.

 _His_ body had provided her pleasure, he was, if not the source so at least in part the inspiration for the ecstasy, he had admired in her face, had felt her body experience.

Exhausted and spend Tom leaned panting against the cold tiles. Damn. Another 52 or so hours.

_But who was counting, right?_


	15. Monday, April 27

## 

## 20:30 GMT

_The universe is change; our life is what our thoughts make it._

_– Marcus Aurelius_

Tom is supposed to call her when he gets to his hotel after his meetings on the other side of the ocean but that is still some time away so she dials the third and last number on her speed dial.

“I have a feeling you are not calling about _‘The Kinky CEO’?”_ Megan takes a deep drag from her cigarette.

“Oh, is that the official title now?”

“Shut up.”

“No, I am not calling about that.” Alex laughs but sobers. “ I’m sorry it’s so late for you but I thought you might still be up. We got interrupted last time we talked and meanwhile some things have happened… I still need your advice.”

“Sure. Happy to give it – tell him to go fuck himself.”

“What?”

“That is what you want to hear from me, no?”

“No! Why would you think that?”

“Let me see... I assumed you were calling because it didn’t work out. You followed my advice after all and you told him, and he ran. Asshole. I’m sorry for that, but at least you tried. Come visit me and we can get drunk on the beach.”

“No!” Alex’s words come out aghast at even the thought of Tom being portrayed that way. “I mean, I did tell him eventually – and yes, I should have, right from the start. I tried to get away with pretending, mind you not because I wanted to deceive him, just, you know, avoid all the drama and… he wouldn’t let me.”

Megan is awfully quiet.

“We...fooled around and we slept in the same bed in the last nights, but we didn’t have sex. Well, no penetrative sex. No Intercourse. I mean, he came. As you know, I can’t. Won’t. Didn’t think I could.”

Megan appreciated the attention to detail, even if a bit stuttered, and says nothing. 

“But... I think I might.” Alex adds.

“Seriously?” Meg finally chokes out, she might have been holding her breath for too long. “The stuff I’m smoking must be better than I thought. Am I hearing right? First of all, if he is actually as good as he sounds, we have the plot to the next novel right here. He waits to have sex until you’re all in? Girl, that is gold. I knew I liked him the moment you told me about him.”

“Was that before or after you told me to tell him to fuck off?” Alex is amused.

Megan exhales heavily. And Alex can hear the click as a new cigarette is lit. Or whatever it is Meg is enjoying.

“Never mind that. And also, I cannot believe I’m saying this, but I won’t give you advice on this specific situation. That is between the two of you. Severine probably gave you the whole sweet spiel about love conquering all. You know I don’t believe in that. I adore her but we disagree on that deeply. I know that the _body_ knows what it knows. And if you, you of all people, say you might want to give it a shot… When you feel emotionally connected to him, I am convinced the physical will be there as well. Once your limbic system doesn’t ring the alarm anymore, deems him trustworthy, and from the sounds of it, that just happened, the walls will fall, and so will you.” Megan waits for an answer from Alex. “Hello? You still there?”

“Yes. I am. But…that was actually not the advice I wanted to ask for.”

“Not? I thought it was pretty good advice as far as these things go.”

“Yes. It was. Is.” Alex knows she needs to say it out loud, but stalls. 

“Out with it.”

“Are your feelings of pleasure, your orgasms, the way you describe them in your books?”

Another choking sound from Meg.

“I mean, I don’t want to be insensitive, but when I read for you, your stories, there is always this certainty of fireworks and they just look at each other and touch and _bang_. I am not a simpleton, I know this is your artistic licence… But I am asking _you_ , my friend, not the person having to sell erotica. How does it feel to you? How do you know?”

“Believe me, you will know when it happens. But at the same time, I guess it’s different for everyone. Don’t worry about it. Take a look at the menu and enjoy the starter. The main course will _come_ , sooner or later. Pun intended.”

“Urgh, that is _not_ helpful. Severine could have told me _that_. I need to know, how do you make…I mean, it’s there, this _sensation_ , for lack of a better work, and it grows, but it won’t…crest…”

Meg giggles. A sound Alex has never before heard coming from of her bad ass friend’s mouth.

“It’s not funny. I’m serious. I thought it would be more of an…itch, one can’t help but scratch and then… bang. Over. Happy. But it’s more like a constant urge. To go one step forward but two steps back as well.”

“I love your _delicate_ descriptions. And that you need to use them for the first time. And haven’t you learned better vocabulary from me in the last years? Degree in Philology, my ass.“ Meg focuses. “All right. Honestly. You are giving me whiplash. How did we go from you being _frigid_ for all your life – and to be clear I never said that I’m just quoting you – to you having _an itch you can’t scratch_? Maybe your limbic system hasn’t send the memo yet to the administration of the temple, that is your body.”

“Again, not funny. It’s not like I have much of a choice here.”

“Are you saying he is pressuring you?” There is a chilly edge in Megan’s voice for a moment.

“No, no! God, no pressure, no…But now that I know there is as a matter of fact something, I mean not just cerebral but…slightly animalistic, maybe…I need to know how to get there, what to do… I’m making not much sense, am I?”

“As much as someone can make talking about something they have never before experienced, I guess? You just keep going, enjoy it and like with all good things, the _journey_ is the reward. You know, look at it like that. The…crescendo is the end of it, so actually if it’s a good thing it takes some work, and time, you don’t want it to be over in 5 minutes, do you? Enjoy the ride!”

“But I need the ride to be _over at some point_ …how can one go on with this feeling of being on the brink? It’s torture. It looks so easy when he does it.”

Alex stops herself with an embarrassed gesture, unseen by her friend.

“I could make a bad pun about men being men, but it’s not true. Desire is build in our genes but what triggers it and when and how it explodes…That is the great mystery. It sounds though, as if you are much closer to solving it than you’ve ever been before. Alex, as long as I know you, you have been all or nothing. I admire that about you. Research, papers, shoes… once you set your mind to it, you do whatever it takes to get to the finish line in record time. But. This isn’t something you should rush. The grass doesn’t grow faster when you pull at it. Remember?”

Alex agrees. Grudgingly. Megan changes tactics.

“And since we are happily oversharing, how are your selfing activities going?”

“Excuse me?!?”

“Yeah, that is the newest slang I got from Paolo… he has been discovering the urban dictionary and now he keeps enlightening me. If he expects me to blush it will be a long wait for him.”

“Do I want to know…?”

“Look it up, or maybe…better not. But I was just half joking. You once said you didn’t… how did you put it… _pleasure yourself_ , because there was no point, no trigger. Like scratching a phantom limb. I have the inkling this may have changed?”

Alex gnaws at her lips.

“There may be some change as well, yes.”

“Good.”

“No, _not_ good since there is the same issue as before, there is this yearning but I can’t… complete it.”

“Ah. And why is that, do you think?”

“I wouldn’t have asked you about it earlier, if I knew.”

“All right. Point taken _…_ ” 

There is a distant noise on Megan’s side of the line, and she mumbles to someone but Alex doesn’t understand the muffled conversation.

“I’m back, sorry, Okay. So then, just one last boring piece of advice from your Sex Ed Aunty Meg. It’s not just guys who react with performance issues to pressure. Internal pressure. You are smart. You know that. I get why it might be hard for you to let go in the presence of another person, watching you, spurring your inner perfectionist on to excel. Hell, three minutes ago you were convinced you needed to fake pleasure and now you expect to be a sex genius after two nights with the guy?”

“Three nights. In the same bed. Six if we are counting…”

“Damn it, Missy, I’m trying to make the point that things worth doing are worth being done well. So first the basics. Learn to walk, before you run. Learn the steps alone before you ask someone to dance. Know what rhythm works for _you_ , before you let someone else pick the music.”

Alex has nothing to say to that.

 _“‘The Kinky CEO’_ will have to further wait as collateral damage until this is sorted, I guess.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. But thank you so much, _Aunty Meg_.”

“Yeah.”

There is a female voice calling Megan’s name in the background, repeatedly. “ I guess I am _really_ needed back in bed. You okay?“

“Yes, thank you.“

Alex hangs up and stares into nothing for a long while. _Know what rhythm works for you, before you let someone else pick the music._

Easier said than done.

Her fingers itch to get out pen and paper and _converse_ with her Mum. What would she have to say, how would she ask her mother … she stops short.

Would she, now?

Would she, really?

Alex swallows and faces fact and not imagination.

She wouldn’t say a thing.

She had almost died in explaining to Severine, she had been shaking with shame, humbled by her humiliation… yes, Severine had calmed her mortification… but telling her mother, her perfect _maman_ – she’d rather be swallowed whole by the ground. Because she would never feel confident to share this with her. That awkward little issue, neither the embarrassing defect nor the sudden dark…lewdness.

_And why is that?_

She looks at the family picture across the room on her dresser. Their last vacation together in France. Her mum’s long gleaming hair, with a halo of sun light in it, the almost sanctified white linen dress streaming down her willowy body… as always, she thinks ‘ _The Lady of Shalott_ ’, and sighs.

She shares the same facial features, sees similar eyes and bone structure in her reflection in the mirror, but not the same immaculate celestial body.

Whenever Alex remembers her, Susanne Walker-Wright is a kaleidoscope of mumbled childhood impressions, a soft voice in dim light reading to her about strong princesses; a spicy mish-mash smell of home made fish’n’chips and rhubarb pie; a gentle hand holding on to her as she braves the cold salty waters, almost tumbling but being pulled upright before face planting, feeling a burn in her eyes, wanting to cry but being encouraged to not give up, by bright laughter, and love. So much love.

The tender touches the couple shared before her eyes, the pure unsullied love, the harmony… Alex stops abruptly in her train of thought.

Yes, they had been beautiful and ethereal in her memory, like a _Waterhouse_ piece, their love untainted and eternal, like the oil paintings she had admired countless times at the National Gallery.

She wonders what they would have become with age. A bickering old couple? Or silent, having run out of things to say to each other? Perhaps nothing would have changed…or everything.

## 22:55 GMT

 _Pain is either an evil to the body (then let the body say what it thinks of it!)-_ _or to the soul.  
_ _But it is in the power of the soul to maintain its own serenity and tranquility..._

_\- Marcus Aurelius_

Tom had texted Alex to see if she was still awake before he called, as agreed, when there was a break in his meeting schedule, before he planned to head out for dinner.

“I hope you face timed Toby before you called me. Kai says he is heartbroken to not have heard from you yet.” There is a moment of incredible silence from the side of the ocean. Alex adds, ”He looked it, too. Poor baby!”

“You called my dog.” Tom sounds thrown.

“Yes.” She pauses. ”You did leave me Kai’s number. The question is, did you?”

“Yes, just before I called you?” Even to his ears it sounds more like a question, as if he isn’t sure whether the answer would get him in hot water or her good graces. Alex just laughs.

“That is the correct answer. How was your day?”

Tom depicts Alex buried under her blankets in her bed, but because he’d never been inside her place, he struggles to envision her anywhere else but his _own_ bed, between _his_ sheets. He focuses on her voice with closed eyes. Technology makes her sound so close, he pictures her laying next to him, pretends to be next to her in his big cold hotel King size. It makes him ache, so he sits up.

“My neck is still killing me, but my meetings were good, all things considered. ” He stalls. “In fact, it’s gone so well, that I need to stay another day.”

He hears Alex swallow on the other side of the ocean and act her age. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”

“I hate it. Tell me you hate it, too.” Tom demands this only half joking. Listens to her sad chuckle. “But it is what it is, and it hopefully saves me another trip down the road.”

“I see.” Alex is quiet for a moment. Desperate to not get moody.“ I meant to ask. Have you by any chance seen my shower gel? I thought I brought it home with me but it’s nowhere to be found. I just took a shower and needed to resort to shampoo.”

Tom chuckles. “ I also need the shower before dinner.” He pauses.“ But I will be _thinking_ of you. And then later, dreaming of you.”

Alex doesn’t catch on immediately, it’s late and she feels more gloom than she admits at the prospect of sleeping alone in her bed, in her empty flat, yet another night. “That’s nice.”

“I mean,“ he repeats with slow emphasize, “I will relax in the shower, _thinking_ of you. I have an admission to make. I nicked your shower gel from your bag.”

“Why would you do that?” to say she is bewildered would be an understatement.

“To keep me company. In the shower. To remind me. When I close my eyes and think of you. In the shower, smelling you and touching myself…”

“Tom!” Her exclamation has nothing to do with the fact that that particular cosmetic item is quite an expensive indulgence. She knows he is teasing and she knows exactly which devilish smile is on his face right this moment.

He clears his throat and says good bye.

“I’m going to take my shower now, and you, off to bed. Sweet dreams.”

Alex holds on to the phone long after they hang up. It feels like an extension of him, a connection to him.

She imagines him stripping in his messy manner on the way to the bathroom, dropping his discarded clothes as he goes, walking naked in the stall, turning on the water. His voice had sounded tired, and as she sees him in her mind, stepping under the spray, she almost physically senses the weariness in his body, his tight shoulders. Wants to make it better.

Alex finds herself yearning to be there to reach out to him, the soothe his discomfort, to stroke his aching neck and return the favor, kneading the flight from of his still stiff muscles. The heat of the shower would probably be helpful and she envisions his groan of appreciation as she steps with him under the water. She bites her lips.

She can smell herself, as she lathers him up with her shower gel. She wants to be there, with him, to do it for him. Not in the damn big loud city but in the small steam filled stall.

Now that she knows what his shoulders feel like under her hands, his skin, muscles, bones, she can almost sense it under her finger tips. She can feel his powerful body vibrating, the energy transmitting over to hers and she touches herself where he would; where he would brush and stroke and breathe and then… he would stop to not make her uncomfortable.  
She finds this thought oddly… _uncomfortable_. She wants him to continue.

Alex wants to feel his lips on her breasts, the sweet pain of him tenderly closing his teeth around their peaks, and pinches herself; feel his palm at her groin, warm, unflinching, and insistent, and she squeezes her legs around the bunched up blanket, wishing it were his body. She can see this exact situation before her, but strangely not just see but feel it, in her finger tips and toes and everywhere in between; wishing he were there in the flesh, even if he would stop. Would she let him? Stop? 

She thinks not.

Not this time.

Not, if like now, the feeling is urgent and just out of reach. She grinds her teeth in frustration and untangles herself from the sheets, determined ignore the damn annoying disappointing ache, that just won't leave or better _come_. And yes, pun intended.

She gets up to get ready for bed and finds herself pondering the doubt that had started to fester in the back of her mind earlier on. Before the issue of _rhythm_.

The idolized memories of her parents, she is aware they are not a reflection of actuality, rather a manifestation of her dreams and hopes, a mirage.

They must have argued, fought, disagreed, shouted and most of all… it makes her shudder, like every grown up child that prefers to believe their parents simply discovered a bundle of joy under a mulberry bush, it makes her woman up but concede…they must have not just _made starry eyed love_ , but _hit the sheets_ , had sex. And not the blurred, _suitable for all_ version, but rather the adult kind, the _NSFW_ kind.

_But what has all this to do with her?_

She definitely isn’t thinking of her _parents_ when she is with Tom. Well, not in _that_ way anyway.

What she does incoherently think of before she joins Morpheus, are Lycius and Lamia.   
She always wondered how the story would have been be told, if seen through the eyes of the serpent-turned-woman.


	16. Tuesday, April 28

## 20:00 GMT

_It is harder to fight against pleasure than against anger._

_\- Heraclitus_

Tom didn’t have much time during the day to text but Alex followed proceedings through his schedule nicely by the quick, sometimes blurry pictures he sent in odd moments, as he seemed to be crisscrossing around town. Even though it left her wondering sometimes what exactly it was she was looking at and how he came across that particular corner or item.

When her phone once more notified her of an incoming message on the way home, she expected yet another riddle, but stopped confused. The only person that hated texting more than herself was Megan. So for a moment Alex was puzzled.

Why would Meg send her the link to a website from a shop just around the corner from Babylon? She had occasionally wondered why the window display of that specific one was a black velvet curtain, very tastefully draped, but the incorrectly spelled dark red neon sign stating, ‘ _Enter Her’_ _,_ drove her mad.

Oh _._

 _Oh_.

No way was she going to set foot in a seedy sex shop. What was Meg thinking?!?

She put the phone away and hurried home.

“Did you enjoy your shower last night?”

Alex lay nestled in her bed.

“I did. Very much so. Also this morning. I can still smell _you_ on my skin.”

Tom sounded tired and Alex was quiet for a moment.

“And your meeting partners didn’t find your new fragrance peculiar?”

“I dare them to ask me.” Tom almost growled, but after a moment sighed. “Unfortunately, it is very faint, but enough to remind me of you.”

“25 more hours until you land.”

She echoed his exacts thoughts.

“Yes, more or less. And about 36 hours until you open the bookstore and I will be waiting there for you, with a big coffee and a smile.”

Tom had about 90 min until he needed to be ready for dinner, so normally he would use the time to take a nap. As it was, he made himself comfortable on the bed and, having shed the suit he’d worn all day, was ready to put on dark denims for his casual dinner when it was time to get up.

“What do you think of when you touch yourself?”

Tom took the change of subject in an admirable stride, in his estimation anyway.

“I suppose, the politically correct answer would be _you_ , but in all honesty most of the time I don’t _think_ much, it’s more like a stream I dip into, I see pictures of, well bodies, I guess, body parts, I imagine touching them, you… I never analyzed it before. It just happens.” He chuckled.” In puberty an off switch would have been very helpful.”

Before he could ask her the same question, she continued.

“What is the end state, for you? I mean how long do you think you can stand being without it?”

“It?”

“Sex.”

“We do have sex. I’m not complaining, am I? I’m very satisfied. Well - not currently, but when I am with you. In the same bed. The same continent.”

“I mean real sex. Well penetration, if we must be medical about it.”

“Oh, I see.”

Tom was quiet for a bit.

“Alex, what’s on your mind? What we did two days ago was amazing and I loved it. I could have done that all day long, all night long, without it being too much or too little. More…or less…it can be whatever you want.”

“All day long? I’m a bit skeptical of that.” 

“True, not without me needing a break to catch my breath, but you know what I am trying to say. Let me say it differently. It’s a reward in itself to have you like that morning. To be _allowed_. Conventionally, and yes I am not above that, the _climax_ during _intercourse_ is what defines the encounter. But who says we won’t get there. And if not, who says it’s what defines _us_?”

“ _Saint Thomas_ … do you really expect me to believe you will be satisfied if, although I enjoy what we do, we never have what you are used to, people are used to?”

“ _People_ are used to a lot of things but _people_ are not in our bed. And I understand that you are not ready, that you may never want that and I can’t, won’t love you less for it. I don’t love you less for disliking things I enjoy. Life is compromise. Love is give and take.”

“And you give and I take.”

And there she was again, the fierce amazon from that evening in the kitchen; the blessed, decisive evening, where he met the maiden in armor, ready to attack. He hadn’t missed her but she was part of what made Alex _Alex_ , so there was no need to fight or oppose, rather he would yield. Let her exhaust herself, let go of all it was that sparked the desperate explosion this time; in the hope, no, in the belief, that like a wild fire sooner or later it lost its substance and died down, his pure acceptance of her need to rage through her internal thunderstorm, the soothing blanket to extinguish the hot glowing hurt afflicting her.

Back when she had taken him by surprise with this facet of her personality he hadn’t known why she felt the need to test him but he thought he knew it now. It had nothing to do with _him_. He was only the spark to the tinder. She didn’t test _him_ , she was testing _herself_.

“To be vulgar about it, anyone can make me climax. But the natural intimacy I find in our joint space, in your arms, I never had that…I didn’t even know such a place existed. I didn’t know that home could be a person. My house was a shell until you stepped through the door. Don’t you see that we are so much more than a few moments of physical ecstasy - no matter how badly I want them. Or want you to share them with me. I carry not just your heart but the knowledge of being able to go to _our place_ in my mind at any time. Like right now. The fusion of our minds, it gives me physical pleasure and even multiplies it. I can be at home _anywhere_ in the world, as long as your voice is there to keep me company. We are just _talking_ and I admit it, yes, I am stroking myself to the sound of your voice. If I were to stop touching myself right now and you would keep talking, sharing your mind, seducing, provoking my mind with your voice, your words, your trust, I swear I could come just from this…”

Tom wasn’t sure but there might have been a soft sob from Alex.

“We have come so far in such a short span of time. Let’s be in the moment, keep on trying. That is all.”

“One step a time.”

“Yes. Let’s keep _penetration_ out of the picture for now. And as to how long I can stand being without _you_ , every second is too long. However, how long I can stand being _with_ you…in dialogue, in contact, in bed, in love… I don’t know. I was thinking for life, but that might sound a tad dramatic at this point maybe.”

Tom waited but there was nothing. It was a lot to take in. But all was fair in love and war.

“What do _you_ think of when you touch yourself, Alex?”

Turnabout was fair play, too.

“I don’t…usually.”

The words as well as her hesitant tone befuddled Tom.

“What do you mean?”

“I haven’t touched myself, really, before. There was no stimulus, no… carrot?”

They both burst out in laughs. Thank god.

Slowly, after a moment Alex said, “After you hung up yesterday… I thought of what you had said, about the shower…about touching yourself. And I wanted to be there with you.”

“And I would have loved you there and in a sense, as I said, you were.” Gently Tom prodded when she remained silent. “How did that feel, what did you want to do… what did you want me to do?”

Alex hesitated, exhaled sharply, and said ,“I wished, you were kissing my chest, and as I thought of you doing that, I touched myself, my breasts, where your lips would have been… should have been.”

“So would you let me do that, now, if I were there?” He waited but heard nothing but a shaky exhale. “I would lick my lips…moisten them and then…just with the tip of my tongue, I’d carefully wet your nipples…The right one first, then the left...And I’d blow on them gently, to see them pebble…and then I would look up to your eyes to see if you would like that. Would you…like that?

Alex swallowed and pressed her legs together, put the phone on speaker and on the pillow next to her. Tom listened to her breathing and waited. This time he would need to hear her say it.

“Yes, I would.” She sounded wary but also sure at the same time.

“Would you enjoy me placing wet open mouthed kisses…hot and cold at the same time…on your breasts and enjoy me…sucking the pink peaks, carefully, so carefully…until you’d urge me on…to do it harder, and I would be tempted to take them between my teeth… but gently, so gently…my tongue would tease them…and I’d be dying inside to take them with my teeth… but you would need to tell me to. I’d never do something you wouldn’t want me to do.”

He listened carefully to her draw a deep breath.

“Alex, what would you tell me to do?”

Her voice was just a breeze.

“To do it.”

“And so I would. Can you feel the sweet pleasure it gives me, to give you this? What else would happen, in the shower, under the hot spray?”

“More?” Tom could tell Alex wasn’t sure herself if it was a question or a demand.

“So you would have liked me to kiss your sweet belly button maybe? Would you have let me guide you to the stone seating in the corner of this ridiculously large stall?”

He took a moment to give her time but also waiting for her to put a stop to this. Felt in charge but at her mercy all the same. With a dry mouth and forcing himself to go slow he continued as she didn’t put a stop to his daydreaming.

“Would you have liked to see me kneeling before you? The tiles are heated you know, and you could have leaned back for a moment. Would you have let me take your silky soap and wash your skin, rosy from the heat, wash your fingers, hands, arms…Kiss your shoulders and the freckles on your chest before I lather them softly?”

There was an encouraging sigh from Alex, and for a moment he needed to stop touching himself to catch his breath.

“Your toes are ticklish so I care for each one gently, up your instep I stroke your shin and knees… Yes, spread them a bit for me, so I can reach the inside of your thighs, brush the soft sponge over the little birthmark at your hip… “

He paused overwhelmed by the picture, almost tasted the wet skin under his lips and yearned to lean forward and to lap at her like a cat would devour cream. Possibly purr like one, too.

“Let me help you, rest the back of your knees on my shoulders for now … while I kiss the little scar on the inside of your thigh, and lick it too for good measure… the water is still blissfully warm, almost too hot, but still just right… do you feel it?”

The sound Tom heard croaked could have been a yes. Or a moan.

He smiled, but rather painfully as he kept stroking and working himself as he seduced Alex’s mind with what he had dreamed of himself while standing in the shower. This was for her as well as for him. This was give and take simultaneously.

“You are relaxed, yes? Safe with me…you lean back even more, you can feel my skin at the back of your calves, water drops raining down on your shins, on us… don’t worry about planting the soles of your feet against me while I lick over your breasts, down your belly, to where your legs meet… I help you to keep them open, just a bit more, let me in, let the water run gently between your folds… I want to kiss them, I want to feast on your sweet core… and you would let me, wouldn’t you…” Tom's voice had grown hoarse, "Say it Alex, I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes!”

He almost came there and then.

“I will feast but let me give you a treat before…the luxurious shower fixtures should not go to waste… look at me, open your eyes and look at me… are you with me?”

Despite his own pressing issues Tom grinned at the demanding tone that came through the speaker.

“Yes!”

“Good, that’s good. Because as I said, this very clever handheld shower head… you see, the jets they are adjustable… let me take another lick at those straining nipples while I adjust the water pressure… Can you feel it now? Yes, the delicious pressure, right there… I can see your limbs trembling…no don’t hide, stay, please stay…I want to touch myself so badly but for now I only kiss your breasts… Your shaking gasp, the moment you lick your lips, I hear it, I can feel it on my skin. Your nails are scratching my shoulders and I expect to see the sharp line you draw with them to appear painted on them, yes...let me hear you, yes…”

Alex moaned uninhibited by her yearning to be there with Tom and to do exactly that, all of that - and knew that part of the unbridled pleasure, stemmed from _not_ having to do anything, but listen to him, experiencing him entering her mind with his words, seeing her pleasure through his eyes.

Tom tried to keep going but when he heard the deep almost animal like noise she had made, it was over. His brain short circuited and all he could do was stroke himself roughly, imagining the friction he felt came from her silky hand; sparks were dancing through him, and jumped like shooting stars over to her; Alex couldn’t help but whine his name back at him. He was helplessly caught in this symbiotic loop. Surrendered to his longing, he begged her out loud without meaning to. Turned from instructor to worshiper, dropping all charade and giving himself over without pretense.

“Please, yes please, I need you to, please...”

Blessed calm.

He slowly became aware of his surroundings again, woke from the trance he had put them under and they were silent in a way only two survivors of an earthquake could understand. Not trusting the ground yet with shaky legs and ringing ears.

He could not be sure she felt the same bliss of a climax but she certainly was shaken and breathless. It would be crude to ask, to confirm and he understood deep down that an element of the ecstasy had been the privacy of it. That he was there with her but at the same time not. He hoped she would crave it again, this privacy but that he could show her, would be allowed to show her, that being there with her in body could be, if not better then at least as good.

“Thank you.”, he softly sighed.

“I didn’t do anything, you did all the talking.” Her voice should have sounded teasing but was croaky.

“I will be home tomorrow, we can continue this _conversation_ then, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Good night and sweet dreams…”

“Tom?”

He was about to hang up when Alex said his name, softly.

“I…cannot believe you...I mean, _we_ , just did this. What I felt by your hand even though there _was no hand_ , I mean not physically…it was like I could experience exactly what you were describing, I felt it...but…I also _didn’t_. And I would like to know what it would be like, I would like to try. With your body next to me, not just your voice in my head. I might learn to like more things over time. In any case. I’m willing to try. Not just willing but...eager. When you are back.”

He closed his eyes in total bliss.

“So it will be okay, if I hold you through the night and wake you with kisses and stroking and licking and sucking and biting…? Like you did to me? When I felt you, only you and was at the mercy of your hands…? Would you grant me the same pleasure to do this for you?”

She is silent.

“Because I need to be honest… I want even more. I want it all. And to give all. The naked true me, as well as your true naked _you_ … bare souls.”

“With that, you would be my first.” Alex took a shaky breath. “And I will be glad for it.”

He moaned her name in desperation,

“How do you expect me to go to bloody dinner now?! You will be in my mind, whispering, constantly, I will hear your husky voice for the next 24 hrs straight…”

He didn’t know what he expected her to answer but it wasn’t this.

“Good. I want you to. I’ll be waiting.”


	17. One Week Interval




	18. Wednesday, April 29

## 

## 00:25 GTM

_For women, the best aphrodisiacs are words. The G-spot is in the ears. He who looks for it below there is wasting his time._

_\- Isabel Allende_

If only she could feel him.

Rock against him

His deep voice in her ear leading her further.

His hot breath on her neck.

His insistent touch on her… but no, it’s not his touch.

Not _his_ touch, only her own.

Alex groans in frustration for the hundredth time it seems since she hung up the phone. It had been a thrill to listen to Tom, his voice a powerful entity caressing her, hypnotizing her, and more, to have him share his fantasy, to imagine _being_ his fantasy.

She had been rushing towards the elusive, exciting cliff, wanted it with all her being… yet somehow even though she took the jump with him she did not take the fall. She had heard him do so, had wanted to be there with him to kiss and hold him and bake in his drained heat. And for him to give her what he had just drowned himself in. What she had missed.

Again she groans and kicks off the blanket. She is hot and bothered all right, the sheets are all wrong and the noise is different from Tom’s house. She tosses around but resists touching herself because…what’s the use? It won’t happen. It never does.

Alex falls into a fitful sleep eventually.

Dreams.

She doesn’t see him but knows he’s there even before she feels his first hesitant touch. It doesn’t worry her that she can’t see him, his voice is presence enough to make her feel safe. The tentative touch becomes more assured, the texture of his tongue is like velvet against her clitoris when he tastes her cautiously. Soft but raw. Firm yet supple. The pleasure becomes more intense, and instinct has her trying to pull away but she finds she can’t. Her body is bedded comfortably and relaxed yet immobilized; no shackles holding her arms next to her head, yet she can’t move them. All she can do is repeatedly clench her fists and spread her fingers in helpless delight. All she can move are her feet at the ankles, stretching and pointing her toes in powerless pleasure. His voice soothes, his words praise as his hands gently spread her wider; she shudders as his breath warns her of his intent when he starts to feast in earnest.

As he’s promised.

While he urges her on she wakes from touching herself; still half asleep, without conscious thought she clutches the bunched up blanket between her legs, pinches her aching nipples, squeezes and rubs the material between her legs, as she turns almost frantic; can still hear Tom’s voice gently but determinedly guiding her, feels his velveteen licks all over her body and when she seems stuck, afraid to go on even here in the safe haven, frozen in a totally different kind of way, hanging in the air, he is daring her to fall, _telling_ her to, insistently lovingly _relentlessly_ pushing her… and then...

_‘Please, yes please, I need you to, please…_

_…do it!’_

She falls.

Her heart races and her thighs shake, her whole body is tingling.

As she calms, she can feel sweat cooling between her breasts and touches the moisture she feels between her legs.

So this was it.

This is…it?

She feels ecstatic but also bereft at the same time. Tom should have been here.

But had he not been? He had been there, in her head.

But that was not enough.

Her alarm goes off and she gets herself ready.

The reflection in the mirror looks like her. Slightly flushed, but just like her.

So… this was it.

_The big O._

It had seemed more like a big struggle, she ponders as she brushes her teeth. And at the end there was a moment like no other in her body, yes, but it had been a tiny moment - followed by a weirdly hollow sensation. She felt empty, somehow. No, not empty, but maybe lacking? Missing something. Someone.

She keeps thinking while she observes people on the tube, on her way to Babylon, while she sees them pass by the store window. They all do it, more or less. Would someone notice she had changed? _Had_ something changed? Why should it?

Alex looks again at the text with the link from Megan.

_‘Why did you send that?’_

She doesn’t really expect a reply soon but it comes after 10 minutes.

_‘Research is your strength, no?’_

That statement is not wrong.

She should do research. As she had done in the past. If you don’t understand something, do the research. _It is always better to know than not to know._ Answers could usually be found in the wisdom of the generations before. That was how she found explanations about her lack of reaction to Martin, made a certain peace with the fact that she didn’t experience joy from their interactions (she refused to call it relationship anymore).

It’s prudent to gather more facts, even from less… scientific sources.

But no way is she doing this alone.

She forwards the link to Severine.

_‘Call me when you’ve opened the link.’_

And she clicks on it.

Turns out there is nothing seedy about the shop at all. The tasteful website has a 365° virtual tour and there are no blow-up dolls or freakish phallus pictures to be seen anywhere. It looks more like an art gallery or a museum shop with glass cases spotlighting items that remind her of jewelry or modern miniature sculptures. The walls are unobtrusively decorated with close ups of various flowers and fruits.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

With the black velvet in the window display she had expected something else entirely, not a space dedicated to female clients and their pleasure.

Severine calls back

“I thought you’d be spending time with Tom today?”

“He’s not back yet, he had to stay a day longer. _Business_.”

“Oh... I know how that feels.”

They sigh in unison.

“So what is this link that Meg sent you?”

“I think she’s suggesting I go there.”

“Well, let’s have a look then.”

Alex hears mouse clicks and scrolling, nothing else. Severine’s silence is a bit unnerving. Just when she wants to nervously laugh it off Severine states thoughtfully, “I think I know where I’ll be shopping next time I’m visiting.”

“So you think I should try it?”

“Do you want to? Because, you know just because Meg, bless her dirty soul, as well as I, might find this interesting, it doesn’t mean _you_ have to.”

“I would like to… try.”

“Try what? To please Tom?”

“No, to try and find out more about… pleasing myself.”

When she closes the store at seven, she walks the few streets over to _Heaven’s Door_.

_Ready or not, here I come._

Alex squares her shoulders and _enters_ (she is still irritated she only now understands the double meaning).

Almost an hour later she leaves with a small, tasteful black shopping bag under her arm and a slight buzz from the Mimosa her new friend Ayomikun had insisted was part of the experience of shopping in her ‘pleasure garden’.

The spoils of her endeavor don’t fit in her overnight bag, which is cautiously filled with enough outfits for 3 days and nights… there is always the option of doing laundry, she calmly reminds herself.

It feels strange to enter the house without Tom, especially since technically he doesn’t know she does so. They had originally agreed to meet tomorrow; after he had had some sleep he would come by the store. There is, however, no way she will spend another night in sheets that don’t smell like him. His flight is delayed and who knows when he will arrive? But when he does, she will be there.

Alex unpacks her toiletries in his bathroom but resists the urge to unpack anything else. It suddenly seems presumptuous and her inner voice feels it important to point out that she is here without the homeowner’s knowledge, even though yes, he had given her the door code and had told her to come and go as she pleases.

She does not however, have any qualms about using his shower gel since he did, technically, steal hers. When she crawls into the unmade bed she sighs in delight at the familiar feel and more importantly, smell. And then she remembers her little black bag.

## 18:23 GTM

_Waste no more time arguing what a good man should be. Be one._

_– Marcus Aurelius_

Tom was frustrated beyond belief. He looked at his watch. It’s after 6 pm in London; he should already be getting ready for landing but instead, boarding had just begun.

This morning on the way to the airport he had had high hopes to stop by Alex’s house after he landed in Heathrow, even though they had agreed they would see each other only on Thursday for lunch to give him a chance to work against the jet lag.

These hopes as well as the ones for catching up on sleep were cruelly crushed by the humongous fucking delay.

He had spent the last couple of hours in the lounge waiting, the deeply drawn hood of his jacket as well as his sunglasses shielding him, his headphones cocooning him into nature noises from rain forest to beach to sunny meadow. And from hour to hour he got more impatient, and finally aggressive. The service staff cleaning the debris of fellow travelers around him gave him a wide berth. They knew he would decline any offer for more of what he didn’t want.

He wanted home. He wanted Alex. Also, he wanted to stop brooding.

Did she… ?

Did she not…?

Why was it so important?

Alex had sounded sated even if yearning. She had been pleased and said she wanted to repeat this experience, and even more. She had told him, they had agreed, that whatever he gave her, whatever she got from him, was enough - not just enough but fulfilling in a way never before experienced. And he was a grown ass man, should be able to accept that only she could define what was giving her joy, and how he could contribute to that.

Damn.

Why was it so essential to fulfill the act? The _penetration_ \- and he heard her say it in his head in that detached way of hers over the scream of seagulls and crashing waves - as he reflected on last night’s conversation. He had shrugged it off then, diminished its importance, and he had meant it.

Sort of.

There was something to the act of joining where evolution had meant them to, like lock and key, to melt into _one_. Pleasure, immediate gratification, the whole complicated brain chemistry linked to it, was surely a big part. A biological imperative. For animals and humans alike. But for him, there was somehow even more to it. And her intuition had pointed her to what he himself wanted to deny, but in the privacy of his thoughts couldn’t.

It _wasn’t_ important, not intellectually; he would argue this until the cows came home. But viscerally...

 _Eros_.

He remembered the Greek word, of course. Its association with sexual or passionate love as well as the romantic variety. A form of madness brought about by one of Cupid’s arrows, the example his teacher used had been of Paris falling for Helen, leading to the downfall of Troy.

But he wasn’t sure if this was the right way to describe the feelings he associated with Alex. There were at least 4 other words he thought the Greeks had for various kinds of love, though he struggled to recall them. Alex would be able to tell them all, he is sure of that. She would enjoy explaining them to him, he could ask her to do so - but it might take a bit to justify why he wanted to know them in the first place. So he did what one did and googled. And found more than he bargained for.

 _Philautia:_ self-love… _Xenia:_ guest-friendship… _Storge:_ familial love… _Philia:_ dispassionate virtuous love, friendship… _Agape_ : universal love. _Pragma…_ as a kind of practical love founded on reason or duty, and on the other side of the spectrum, _Ludus…_ the playful or uncommitted love.

He made a list on a napkin.

Family - _Storge_

Friends - _Philia_

UNICEF- _Agape_

Norah… and many others – _Ludus (!)_

Alex – _Eros (?)_

But it didn’t sit right with him. Not for her. It was too one dimensional. Alex, his feelings, they were much more…complex. One word was not enough. A million words were not enough. And Eros was sexual, and what they had was physical and sexual but somehow yet not.

The next paragraph caught his eyes.

 _Platonic_ love.

Tom had (never consciously but now that he thought about it, nonetheless self-righteously) rationalized that sex for him was the last important step in the rightful process to confirm his devotion - not merely a hedonistic act to pass the time like for so many others.

He’d always prided himself in not falling in love with appearances, at least not only. It was important to have an intellectual equality, a partnership that was based on similar values, ideas, of healthy opposition in points of view, the ability to verbalize and argue them. Yet, again and again, he found that even when these stipulations were met, it simply wasn’t enough. Complete. Only after sharing bed and body would the facts be solidified. It was called _making love_ for a reason, like a recipe; love was the result of adding up all favorable factors - and there had been so far no reason to question his logic. The emotion of love was a result of intellectual and physical unity, it was the explosion after the right kind of chain reaction, like dominoes falling and knocking over the next and the next, at least that’s what he he’d hoped, rationalized… and so far he’d simply missed the last piece to set it all off. But he had been sure it would be there. Had to be there, if only he tried long enough.

And now he had the explosions all right but was perplexed as to what had ignited it.

What if he had started the process, his assumptions from the wrong end?

What if all these fancy Greek words were not enough, or rather Alex was all of them in one?

Maybe love was not the result of certain actions.

But the cause.

_What an ass am I._

Not for having all these assumptions in the first place but for never before questioning them further. Wasn’t that the definition of insanity, to keep doing the same thing but expecting different outcomes? He inwardly winced at his superiority in lecturing Alex about not being able to solve matters of the heart with the logic of the brain. He was guilty of the same false syllogism. Maybe even more so than her.

Love it seemed, devotion and true connection, wasn’t necessarily the result of the simplified formula _attraction plus intellect plus sex_ … His feelings for Alex, they didn’t add up like variables of a theorem. He already knew this, of course.

All through his grown-up life he had been trying to light a bonfire by putting together gasoline and tinder and wood blocks, desperate for the initial spark to catch, but disregarding one vital component. What he’d never so far considered was, it was oxygen that allowed the fire to burn and grow in the first place.

Now, he wasn’t sure what the oxygen in this metaphor of his life was; he had no idea. He just knew that since he’d met Alex, it was there. She had that vital component that made the chemicals react and fused them into something beautiful that looked nothing like he would have imagined.

They had a deep connection that had never before been part of his relationships. So yes, in a way _penetration_ was not needed, and yet, the thought of becoming one with her, sharing himself with her in this way…There was no logic to it. But he wanted it. Her. Fully.

In the past he had taken care that his partners were satisfied, had taken pains to ensure equality in the relationship duties, but it had never occurred to him that there was a whole other level to be considered. He’d never been selfish... but he had withheld a part of himself.

His own words echoed in his ears. _You trusted me not only with your mind but body... your true naked you… bare souls._ He’d used that word so abundantly, so carelessly. 

And had no idea of its meaning.

_Trust._

He never before trusted anyone with his heart. The _true part_ of his heart. The part that was soft and small and hidden behind big words and charm and eloquence in quoting poetry. He had never before given his trust to anyone in that regard. Not really. You could only give something you were aware existed. 

But he knew of it today. That part of him marked now as hers, branded with her name... that part that was unused and innocent as freshly fallen snow. Weak and defenseless like a kitten. This part of him was seeing the light of day for the first time and he was in awe of the easy and unafraid way Alex had given hers to him. 

It was true, she’d never used the word love and yet he _knew_. She showed it. _Actions prove who someone is, words just prove who they want to be._ Ouch, that hurt.

The word _love_ had always been connected in his mind, and more importantly in his physical experience, with entering a woman for the first time. Penetrating her. Yes, as base and archaic as it might be. A kind of rite of passage, a ritual. The intimacy of naked skin on naked skin, the litmus test for what he now understood was a flawed theory. There had never been responsibilities attached, not ones that counted. 

The whole day it had been at the back of his mind but only when he spoke with her had it become clear. Never before had his happiness depended _less_ on what happened in bed. Never before had his happiness depended _less_ on the actions of another person, but rather on that person _being well, being satisfied_ \- not only short term in body but long term in mind and soul and spirit. And if that meant _not_ having this person, being unhappy _without_ this person for her own good… then he would let her be. Tom hoped he would.

He had spoken about naked souls but had meant bodies - because until the day that he met her, both were simply the same in his perception.Tom felt ashamed that he had asked something of her that he himself had never before given.

This utter vulnerability... Alex had it wrong.

He wasn’t her first.

She was his.


	19. Thursday, April 30 (1/2)

## 

## 00:45 GTM

_Very little is needed to make a happy life; it is all within yourself, in your way of thinking._

_— Marcus Aurelius_

When finally in his seat, Tom had fallen into restless sleep and had dreamed. Of what, he didn’t exactly remember, but he was grateful for the blanket hiding his erection until it calmed _down_.

Traffic was blessedly scarce and he fell asleep in the car the moment it started moving, the driver having to shake him awake when they arrived at his front gate.

As he stepped inside the house and rubbed his dry eyes, glad for the glasses he was wearing, he noted a faint whiff of perfume. Of Alex. Yup, it was official now, he was slowly going insane.

He dropped the hand luggage in the hallway, messily took off his shoes, and the socks right with them and, without switching on the light, went straight up to his bathroom. Quick shower and brush of teeth and then sleep. Real sleep, not that bastardized version up in the air. He was so tired of going to bed while his body was being transported from point A to point B. To wake up to a different place from where he’d fallen asleep. To different faces. But the same emptiness.

Tomorrow would be different, he would wake up in his own bed and then, he would see the only face he wanted to see.

He started the shower and began to strip when his tired brain noted two toothbrushes in the cup on the sink. And moisturizer that was definitely not his. And a turquoise razor. Most _definitely_ not his.

He stopped the shower and like in a drunken stupor, went into his dark bedroom.

The light from the bathroom was dim, but enough to allow the assessment that his bed was not empty.

This was a hallucination surely.

Tom knelt on the edge of the mattress and reached out to touch Alex, to confirm what his tired brain insisted was true…but stopped.

He didn’t even question why she was there. He was just grateful. Her back was turned to him; she was rolled up on his side of the bed, hugging his pillow from the looks of it. He found he didn’t have the heart to wake her. And at the same time, he wanted to wake her so _badly_. But he shouldn’t, he should quietly leave and take a shower and brush his teeth and sleep downstairs, like the considerate lover that he believed he was. But the idea of being so close and yet so far kept him indecisive. The thought occurred that he could just carefully lay next to her, not disturb her and still be just be a breath away. And wake up to her in the morning. He was so exhausted all he needed to fall asleep was to be horizontal and gently touching her hair or her back with a fingertip…

“Tom?”

He woke her after all.

“You are really here?” She sounded sleep drunk as she glanced at him over her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Alex turned to him fully, he saw her squint her eyes and then she extended her arms towards him.

“Finally! I’ve missed you so much!”

She sounded raw, but amazingly happy.

“I need a shower, I probably smell and…”

“Don’t you dare leave, come here, right now.”

The last thing he remembered was simply following her demand and feeling her arms around him.

When he woke up it was after 10, and he was in bed alone. His back was killing him and sleeping in his clothes hadn’t been the best idea - but sleeping in the same bed as Alex had been the best, most welcome gift he could have wished for.

As he turned his head on the pillow, he noticed a post-it stuck to his forehead.

There was a big L on it and a smiley face; he chose to think she meant to abbreviate the word love for him to wake up to.

Tom finally took the shower he had abandoned last night and felt much better, especially knowing what would await him right after he got himself a big cup of coffee. _Alex_.

And when he had kissed her senseless and molested her as much as possible in a bookstore, he would leave her to her tomes and pick up Toby, buy groceries and prepare dinner, so that the moment she came home he could feed her. And then it was time to find out what she wanted for her _dessert_.

## 11:30 GTM

_It is impossible to begin to learn that which one thinks one already knows._

_\- Epictetus_

The bell tinkles as the front door opens. Without looking up from her desk, she spies in her peripheral vision once again a take-out coffee container.

“Welcome to Babylon Books,” she calls, and tries to sound annoyed, “would you mind leaving your drink on the shelf?”

There is a pause following her request, then a soft chuckle.

“Sure. If you prefer your coffee cold.”

“I don’t give a damn about the coffee.”

Tom looks rested and smells freshly showered; his smile is blinding.

“Excuse me, Sir, all glasses need to be left by the door.”

Alex carefully removes said item from his nose and puts them on the counter, as he still holds onto the two lidded containers she recognizes from his kitchen; then she takes his face into her hands and looks at him up close, almost nose to nose. The radiant shine in his eyes, the pure joy in his smile.

“Welcome home, stranger.”

Before Tom can reply she stands on her toes and kisses him, carefully, slowly. Just lips. Brushes their noses against each other in shy Eskimo kisses, again looks into his eyes and now, with the assurance that it’s really him, that she is welcome too, she plunges into his mouth, drinks in his surprised breath, and enjoys him standing immobile for the moment, aware of the liquid in his hands and the wrath that will befall him should he spill even a drop.

When she is done with her first taste, he opens his eyes and puts the coffee next to his glasses.

“You think you are clever like that, yes?”

He moves the books on the sales counter to the side, takes her by the waist and lifts her onto the free space. It’s her turn to be stunned and he steps close, pulls her towards his body; she wraps her legs around him instinctively and now he takes his turn, savouring her softness, her warmth, her desperation.

They pant at each other and startle like teenagers when the doorbell tinkles. Luckily, it’s just a courier with some parcels. He winks at Alex as she signs off the delivery.

They decide to hide themselves for the moment in the corner behind the medieval anatomy section with the big leather chair, meant to invite weary shoppers to rest and leaf through some books. Tom almost knocks over the reading lamp next to it in his enthusiasm and she giggles at his surprised _oof_ as she pushes him down in the seat and climbs on top of him.

“I missed you.”

“You don’t say.”

She shuts him up with wet, urgent kisses and has to cover his mouth with trembling fingers as he starts to moan at her bites to his neck. It’s no good though, because he simply sucks her digits into his mouth with a loud indecent noise. She giggles again and stops for a moment, resting her forehead on his clavicle.

“You’re not upset I stayed at your place without asking you?”

Tom shakes his head in earnest and kisses her nose as she looks up at him.

“No. My Home is your home. Whenever you want.”

Alex kneels over him but is trying to balance her weight at least partly so as not to press down too hard, but he is having none of that and pulls her on top of him with a satisfied groan.

“This is a place of order, sir, this is no way to behave in a bookstore.” Alex scolds him in her best librarian voice and goes on to whisper something decidedly filthy into his hot ears.

They hear a customer enter and she almost falls off him as she tries to get up quickly and he simultaneously tries to hold on to her while standing up.

“I’ll be right with you!” Alex calls out from behind the shelfs.

“No rush!” comes the good natured reply, and she thinks she recognizes the Mocha lady.

Tom crowds her against the wall of books and gives her a lingering farewell.

“I’ll pick up Toby and then do some shopping – what would you like for dinner?”

Alex looks at him, considering.

She takes his hands in hers, puts them on her breast, holds them there, feels his involuntary squeeze and waits.

“Amazing. That’s exactly what I want.”

Alex raises an eyebrow.

“Got it. Fast and nutritious. One bowl dinner. As you wish.”

She stands at the window and watches Tom almost skipping down the street to pick up Toby as she helps the customer.

Alex gets a quick lunch after she rings up the sale, and while eating looks at the phone on the counter next to her.

She had spent all morning thinking, now was the time for acting.

“I need a favor. Yes. That exact one, no questions asked. I need you to cover for me this afternoon. Whenever you can come by. 2 pm? Perfect. Thank you. And no. None of your bloody business.”

Next she sends Tom a text, asking him to meet her for afternoon tea once he’s picked up Toby.

He calls her five minutes later.

“How did that happen?”

“Aly offered to help out, if I wanted a free afternoon.”

“That is marvelous, I’m just at Ben and Kai’s… so around 3:00?”

When Aly takes over, she can see how hard he works at not asking any questions and she is very grateful. She kisses him good bye and heads over once more to enter _Heaven’s Door_.

“Ayomikun…”

“Call me Ayo, please.”

”Okay, Ayo, what does this … _thingy_ do?”

They have been fast tracking through toys and oils and waxes, for 20 minutes now. Ayo has been patiently answering and waiting for Alex to come clean.

“Darling, it does everything… if you let it. But that is not what you are really here to ask, is it?”

Alex feels caught red-handed.

“Were you not satisfied with the Gigi2 you got yesterday?”

“I was… that’s not…I mean, I was wondering. I tried the techniques you recommended and it became quite clear that inserting … _it,_ was an absolute waste of effort. Direct stimulation proved successful but… it made me doubt why anyone one would enjoy… that. Especially with a live specimen.”

Ayo laughs good naturedly.

“Sweetheart, there are as many kinds of pleasures as there are noses in the world. Most women need pressure at the vaginal walls rather than _in-out_ stimulus. Some swear they don’t have a G-spot, others say only that sweet button gets them going. That is why there are many kinds of toys, to play, to discover. And to enjoy whatever brings _you_ pleasure.”

“So. I might never enjoy… penetration.”

“There is no such thing as _never_ with human sexuality. There maybe _not yet_ , or _not now_ , or _not again_ … in any case give it time. And practice. Lots of practice. Nerve bundles build with use, the brain needs to start making connections it hasn’t required before. Did you apply the warming lubricant?”

“Yes…?”

“And the butterfly, did you give that a thought? I know It’s a silly looking device but it’s effects can be quite remarkable.”

“The issue is, I don’t know what T…his reaction to that would be. If he feels maybe, uncomfortable with me pursuing this matter with a… device?”

“If he is not threatened by your search for pleasure, by you accessing your divine female power, if he knows what’s good for him and he wants to please the goddess in you - I don’t imagine he is intimidated by a little toy.”

Alex nods and once again leaves with a black bag under her arm, not small at all this time, however she is absolutely sober.


	20. Thursday, April 30 (2/2)

## 12:10 GTM

_Real friendship is shown in times of trouble; prosperity is full of friends._

_\- Euripides_

Kai heard the flat door open and Toby went from curled up and snoring behind her knees, to rocketing off the couch and skidding madly around the corner to the front hall.

“Sorry little guy,” she could tell by his voice that Ben was squatting down and giving belly rubs, “it’s just me.”

“Hi Just You, I’m in here.”

Toby had already leapt back up and reclaimed his spot, flopping down with a little grunt of puppy satisfaction when Ben walked up behind the couch, gathered Kai’s hair in his hands and gently pulled her head back so he could kiss her. 

“I made coffee. It should still be hot if you’d like some.”

Ben went to find himself a cup.

“Have you heard from Mr. T?” Kai called to him in the kitchen, “I was expecting him a while ago and it’s not like him not to let us know if he’s going to be late.”

Hearing Tom’s name was enough to send Toby off, searching frantically for him, so when dog sitting, they used a codename that the little pup, smart as he was, had not yet learned to associate with his Lord and Master.

“He’s parked one house down, talking on his mobile. From the dopey look on his face, probably arranging where and when to meet Alex,” he told her as he carefully balanced his mug and joined her on the sofa. His grin faded at his wife’s deep sigh. “What was that for?”

She shrugged, “I’m worried about him.”

“I thought you liked her?”

“I don’t know her. We hardly got to speak at the theatre. My first impression was positive; she was a bit quiet but first dates, meeting the friends, it can be unnerving and T…” she caught herself, “Mr. T certainly seemed to be pleased to have her there but, I don’t know Ben, since he met her, he’s been sort of,” she sipped her coffee as she tried to put her finger on the problem, “unsettled. Up and down, and not like himself. Is that what he’s always like when he’s in love?”

Ben’s eyebrows rose, “Love? Is he in love?”

“Love, lust, you tell me. You’ve known him longer. The only woman I’ve ever seen him with for longer than a week was Leah and that never amounted to much more than a fling.”

He grinned, “And you had such high hopes too.”

“Well, how perfect would that have been, if it had worked out? Sadly, it wasn’t to be.”

“Schedules are a bitch.”

“Bullshit. All their whinging about him being back and forth to the States and her in Afghanistan and Turkey for her article and how they only saw each other for 3 days in the month after we got married. Bullshit,” she repeated and scratched Toby under the chin when he started at the sharpness of her tone. “You and I just went through weeks living in different cities, and I hated it but we managed because if you want something, someone, badly enough, you’ll find a way.”

“You think they didn’t try hard enough?”

“I think the only reason they even kept up the pretense as long as they did was so I wouldn’t be disappointed.” They laughed and Kai went on, “Honestly, I think it was a mutual infatuation that fizzled after they slept together.” 

“Sounds about right.”

Kai’s eyes narrowed and Ben lifted his mug to his lips, suddenly very focused on his coffee.

“Explain.”

“I was agreeing with you.”

“You had a tone.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

He sighed.

“What aren’t you telling me?” 

“I’m trying to decide whether this is something I should share with you, if Tom hasn’t himself.” 

Kai sat up straighter and squinted at Ben, “Is this some kind of man-code thing?” 

“It’s not a man thing, it’s more, a friend thing. It’s personal, and I’m not entirely sure he’d want you to know.” 

“He only has one nut, doesn’t he?” 

Ben, about to sip from his cup, came very close to spraying coffee across her and the dog. Wiping tears from his eyes, he shook his head at Kai in dismay, and made up his mind.

“You say you’re worried about him. Why?”

“Like I was telling you the other day, after he’d face timed Toby; half the time he’s on Cloud Nine and dancing around with hearts floating out of his ears and then the next time you talk to him he’s all grim and befuddled. It’s weird, don’t you think?”

“Yes.”

“That’s kind of a relief. I wondered if I didn’t know him as well as I thought, but I always kind of figured, actually told him once, that when he found the right woman he’d fall hard and fast and hurl himself into the relationship with every ounce of himself.”

“Hasn’t he? Lately he hardly seems to speak of anything else.”

“Yeah, I know. But it’s like he can’t decide if he’s deliriously happy or miserable.”

Ben stroked her leg, where it rested against his, “It’s early days; they’ve only known each other a couple of weeks. I don’t think they’ve slept together yet.”

“Is that such a big deal?”

He stared at her and slowly raised an eyebrow.

“I meant for other people. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” He ran his hand through his hair, “Look, I think he’s head over heels over Alex, but it’s complicated. In the past, he’s had a tendency to...” Ben was interrupted by the front door buzzer, “shit.”

Toby had flown up and over the back of the sofa, and so Ben was right behind him.

“A tendency to what? What does he do?” Kai yelled from her deserted space on the sofa.

He flapped his hand at her as she got up and joined the welcome party at the door. “Shh. And listen, don’t jump all over him the second he’s in the door. Let’s wait and see if he offers any hints.”

Kai looked at him and the madly barking Toby at the door, grumbling under her breath, “Sure, because I’m known for my patience.”

As she went through the ritual of making Toby sit, holding him in a ‘ _stay’_ Ben opened the door and then she releasing the pup to fly to Tom’s arms, almost knocking him over in his enthusiasm. Tom scooped the dog up, trying to say hello without getting a mouthful of canine tongue.

“I’ll just take him down to the car, then I’ll come back for his things.”

“Where are you off to in such a hurry? Big date?” Kai asked, smiling innocently as Ben shot her a look.

Tom smiled back, oblivious to their exchange, “Not ‘til later, but I haven’t unpacked yet and I’ve got shopping to do.”

“Oh sure, pick up your dog and go. Not even a souvenir for the poor babysitter…”

“You have my undying gratitude.”

“Good enough. Look, come in for 5 minutes,” Kai stepped back in invitation, “have a coffee or something.”

“You know what? Coffee sounds just the ticket. My body can’t decide if it’s in New York or London.”

Shutting the door behind him, Ben said, “Jet lag is a nightmare, even with such a short turn-around.”

Kai nodded, “Going back and forth between home and Prague every weekend for the past couple of months got a bit tiresome, but at least there’s only a one-hour time difference so it wasn’t too awful.” She rinsed the cafetière and reached into the cupboard for the coffee, “And of course, when you know who’s waiting for you on the other end of the flight…”

Wiping his hand over his face, Ben muttered, “Subtle.”

Tom had sat at the table, a still joyous Toby on his lap and he looked back and forth between them, “What’s going on?”

Kai joined him, turning her chair to face him and Tom winced, “Uh oh.”

“Amen brother,” Ben confirmed, and to Kai he added, “go easy.”

“Go make the coffee,” she said, and then, “Tom, how’s Alex?”

“She’s fine.” He broke out into a broad smile, “Better than fine, she’s amazing.”

“And you really like her? She makes you happy?”

“Kai,” he laughed, “what are you on about? Yes, she makes me happy. She’s so bloody bright and well-read, I struggle to keep up with her. She’s beautiful and funny and very nearly as plain spoken as you are and I’m crazy about her.”

“Then why are you acting so fucking weird?”

Tom sat back, his smile fading, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“When you talk about her and your face lights up like that, I can absolutely see it, how crazy about her you are. But Ben and I have both noticed…”

“Don’t fucking drag me into this! I never said a word until you brought it up.” Ben’s voice was a full octave above his usual range.

“You agreed with me when I did though.”

“Well,” he looked at Tom, “it’s pretty obvious you’re not yourself.”

“Of course I’m not! I’m in love! Jesus Christ, I’d have thought that of all people, you two would be over the moon for me.”

Kai laid her hand on the table, palm up and wiggled her fingers. Tom stared at it for a moment as though it might be a trap, then gave in and laid his hand in hers.

“Tom, if you are in love, then we’re absolutely thrilled for you. I mean that. But what we’ve both noticed is that you seem really up and down. Part of the time you’re walking on air and have that silly grin plastered to your handsome mug, but then the next minute, you’ve got a raincloud parked over your head and I can practically hear sad saxophone music playing around you like a bad ‘80s movie. I just want to know you’re all right.”

Tom shook his head, “You know, most people would be too polite to ask.”

With a complete lack of shame, Kai said, “Most people don’t love you as much as we do.”

“It’s complicated,” he sighed, “and I’m not sure it would be fair to tell you the details, because it’s …personal.”

“For her, you mean?”

“Yes.” 

He set Toby down on the floor as Ben placed a cup in front of him and he pulled his chair closer to the table. He looked at Kai, and at Ben standing behind her and again, he started to laugh, “You two. What did I do to deserve you?”

“Now there’s a back-handed compliment if ever I heard one.” Ben smiled at his friend.

Tom took a couple of sips of hot coffee and, seemingly resigned to sharing more than he’d planned, began slowly to speak: "Love and sex. Mind and body. Somewhere along the line, I got some wires crossed, I think. I’ve come to realize that in the past, I may have tried to help my heart _fall_ in love by _making_ love. If that makes sense?"

“You weren’t in love with Leah and you slept with her...To fall in love?” Kai sounded more than skeptical. “That didn't work as planned, did it?”

“I know it sounds absurd,” Tom clarified. “It is absurd. And I know it’s not rational but I have proof right now. I haven’t made love to Alex - yet I am unquestionably in love with her. The complicated bit might be whether I can be in love, stay in love, without having sex.”

Ben, without thinking, sighed, “You and your bloody checklist.”

Kai’s and Tom’s voices overlapped, his with “My _checklist_?” and hers with, “Without having _sex_?”

Ben found himself suddenly at the center of attention.

“Kai, we _all_ have a checklist. I’m simplifying here obviously, but Tom’s goes like this: _BRAIN? Check. LOOKS? Check. A GOOD HEART? Check._ And then this is where things get difficult, because it’s become hardwired into his system that the last but vital next step is, _SEX plus mutual ORGASM,”_ and here Ben raised a finger in the air to draw, _“Check..._ _”_

“Wow,” Tom breathed, “we’re putting it all out there, aren’t we Ben?”

“I didn’t mean for it to be hurtful Tom, but it is pretty accurate from my observation.”

“I know it is. It’s just sort of hard to hear it said aloud. It’s like coming off stage and discovering your zip’s been open the whole time.”

“So, she checks all your boxes... _bar one_.” Kai said and pursed her lips, “And you are aware of your previous patterns and trying to not repeat them, to not sabotage the one that finally feels real to you.”

Tom’s eyes drifted and his expression softened, “Definitely. Not this time.”

“You said you’re in love with her. How do you know it’s love, if you need to _sleep_ with her to be sure?”

When Tom smiled this time, it was like watching the sun explode from behind a storm cloud, “That’s exactly how I do know. For the first time in my life, I don’t need the sex to tell me this is the real thing. Don’t get me wrong,” he chuckled, “it’s not that I don’t want it. I want her, there’s no question. But I want all that she offers, her heart, her remarkable mind, her spirit…so if I have _all_ that, and everything else remains as it is now...then I’m fine with it. We'll deal with it.”

“What do you mean by that? And don’t think I forgot you said _without having sex_.”

“Kai, let it be.” Ben, sensing there was maybe more to it than Tom let on, intervened, laying a hand on her shoulder.

“Right, I get it. There’s personal and then there’s _personal_. But.” Tom looked into her eyes and raised an eyebrow. She took that as permission and asked, “There are as many reasons why a person wouldn’t want to have sex as there are, well, people. And that’s fine, it’s no one else’s business, I get that. But Alex wasn’t…I mean, did someone hurt her…?”

“Oh lord no, not in the way you mean. Not physically. She has emotional scars, yes, but at our age, who the hell doesn’t, but it's…she’s fine. She’s fine just the way she is.”

“O.K, good. So, if she’s fine and you’re in love, then the question remains, _why have you been acting so fucking weird_?”

And Tom sighed, “Because up until about 12 hours ago, I thought this whole thing was mostly about getting _her_ to trust me enough to let me be part of her life and since I couldn’t, as your husband so eloquently put it once, _fuck my way into her heart_ , I was at a loss as to how to go about that. But I promise you both, the cloud has lifted because I realized, it was less about her than it was about me. _I_ trust _her_. Together we’ll figure this out. I have given her my heart to carry, and she will never, ever let anything happen to it.”

“Right!” Kai sat back and regarded her friend, “You haven't had sex yet because you don't want to mess this up, and now you're quoting poetry. I think you might have added a new box to your list. _I'm in love, CHECK_.” Kai grinned. “So what are you hanging around here for? Go get the girl!”

* * *

 _My eternal thanks goes to @EmmyLou for honoring my humble story with a cameo, penned by her with so much love and soul,_ _even though she has barely enough time for working on her own projects! As you may have noted the inspiration for BAE came from her wonderful creation[What You Put Into the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1837888?view_full_work=true)_ _and she kindly agreed to add the above part to give the reader the point of view of Tom’s friends.  
Despite her having not updated in a while, she has definitely not abandoned the story, so if you are interested in reading a grown up fairy tale staring Benedict Cumberbatch, the delightful OFC Kai as well Tom Hiddleston (in a small but potent supporting role), [go check it out](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1837888?view_full_work=true) (and sorry - yes there is A LOT going on, but no threesomes). To quote her: “Don't let the word count put you off. Just read one chapter. One little chapter. What could possibly go wrong?“_

* * *

****

## 15:00 GTM

_Give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum on which to place it, and I shall move the world._

_– Archimedes_

Tom dropped Toby off at home. The not so little puppy was not too happy to see him leave again immediately but seemed mollified by the juicy soup bone Tom had in store for cases just like these.

Afternoon tea. Why did they have to meet somewhere for tea? He had been thrilled when Alex called and told him she could take the afternoon off. But to go for tea seemed…not necessarily a waste of time, but they could have _tea_ at home.

He’d never been to the small restaurant she had suggested, even though it was in his neighborhood, and it took him a bit to find the entrance to the courtyard.

Alex had already ordered, knowing his favorite blend, and he appreciated the efficiency of it. The faster they were done here, the faster they could leave. The caffeine from Kai’s strong brew circulated nicely through his veins and made him feel alert and almost antsy. Or maybe it was seeing Alex, after all.

“Kai and Ben send their regards. And I swear Toby has grown 10 centimeters.”

Alex looked nervous and suddenly the stone in the pit of his stomach was back.

“So… why the need for tea time?”

The waitress served their orders.

“I was hoping we could talk.”

Tom felt his face turn into a mask.

“I mean, continue our conversation from two nights ago.”

Alex played nervously with the little spoon as she stirred milk into her Earl Grey.

“Here? But, of course, as you wish. What about exactly?”

“You enjoyed it, yes?” She leaned closer, lowered her voice, “You… came?”

Never one to mince word, his Alex.

“I did. To be honest I wondered about you…and as you bring it up…did you?”

He saw no other way to find out, no matter how ineloquently or maybe even rude the question seemed to him, but still he needed to know.

“No.” Alex looked around nervously, but no one was within earshot it seemed. And when she looked at Tom she hurried to add, “I did enjoy it, very much, but… No, I did not have an orgasm that evening.” She looked away again, timid. “Though I did...later on and it was with your voice in my head, the image of you that was there with me.”

Tom felt the muscles in his face crumple and his heart drop.

“You came? For the first time. After we…”

When he didn’t continue but closed his eyes, Alex was afraid her fears would come true, that he’d be disappointed by not being physically present or maybe directly responsible for the orgasm. Though when he looked at her again, she was greeted with excitement, amazement, wonder.

“You came.”

She nodded.

“And why are telling me this over tea and not in bed?”

He was teasing but there was a ring of desperation to it, nonetheless.

“There are a few other things I need to say and if we were in bed, I’m not entirely sure I could keep your focus on the conversation.” She conceded. ”Or my own.”

He sipped his tea, possibly to hide a very satisfied smirk, and she waited to continue until he lowered the cup, not wanting to risk the hot beverage going down the wrong way.

“There is a shop around the corner from Babylon. It’s called _Heaven’s Door_ …”

The cup rattled dangerously as he put it down on the saucer.

“You went to a sex shop.”

“Yes.” She hurried to add, “This is not to insinuate you are not enough or that we have to use any...”

He interrupted her with such relieved laughter she wondered what he’d been expecting her to say.

“I don’t care! I mean, I do care, about your pleasure and my possible part in it, but as long as the result is your joy, it doesn’t matter to me how we get there.” He rubbed his face with both hands, still chuckling, “Jeez, and you are telling me _here_ , where I can do nothing about it.”

“Because I was afraid I wouldn’t get it all out. For once I wanted to have a conversation as it should be, between people in a relationship. As you are aware, I have a history of planning to tell you things and then chickening out and avoiding my issues by making it about you. And don’t get me wrong, that is never wrong, as it is about me too, in a way. There has never been one touch or one time that I didn’t want it, that I didn’t learn something about my pleasure when I was with you. You’ve been my unknowing, but I gather, willing test object, my…playground.” Tom grinned at that. “But nonetheless I was avoiding to talk to you, or even think about what I might want, what …”

Alex stumbled a bit and Tom covered her hand that was nervously fiddling on the table as she smiled self-deprecatingly.

“I mean, think about what might arouse me. I always had presumed it was like a switch - one moment it’s off and the next on. Or not. But most importantly, most wrongly, that someone else would do that for me. Switch it on. That it was not me that was…in charge. What I’ve learned in the past few days is that yes, there can be a great incentive in having a second body present… but the only one who needs to be present _is me_. That’s what might have been lacking before. I was never _with me_... I never dared looking closer at what might be pleasurable for _me_ , both body and mind.”

Tom was stunned and sure he looked it, too, as she still continued.

“I had been feeding my mind with hard _worldly_ facts, provided by others, but I never considered discovering for myself what I might have to say about it, what was unique and exciting for _me_. I asked myself… what if I gave myself the approval, the _permission_ I have been seeking from others all this time?”

He took hold of both her hands and closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to focus. Which turned out to be a mistake as she stated, “And I bought some...things.”

It took him an astonishingly short amount of time to find his voice again.

“Toys. You bought…toys.”

“And I tried them out.”

Tom reflexively squeezed her hands. Maybe a bit too hard but she didn’t complain. 

“Last night, in your bed.”

He wasn’t sure how he could still have air left in his lungs but he wheezed out, “Our.” 

“Excuse me?”

“Our bed.”

“ _Oh_. Yes.”

Tom leaped up, threw some cash on the table.

“ _Please_ can we go home now?”

__

_Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom._

_―_ _Aristotle_

They sit on their bed, fully dressed. Tom leans at the bed-head his long legs stretched out, Alex has hers drawn up, her chin resting on her knees, hugging her shins, making tiny unconscious rocking motions next to him.

Both are contemplating the colorful array of items spread out on the sheets before them.

Toby had wanted to join the game but mercifully had been able to be distracted with some of his own toys and was now romping around the back yard.

“That is quite a selection.”

“Yes, I know. I usually go overboard when doing research. But this seems a new high.”

Tom sits up and turns toward her with a devilish gleam in his eyes. But she is in lecturing mode and wants to share her gained knowledge.

“I ... learned that a lot of women cannot orgasm from penetration alone. They need external stimuli to the outer...”

Tom interrupts her with a passionate kiss, pressing her back into the pillow, laughing into her mouth basically and finally resting his forehead on hers.

“I will do a handstand in _lederhosen_ if that’s what gets you excited, as long as what we do together gives you pleasure similar to what I experience from your touch.” He becomes serious. “Tell me, teach me, I will do whatever you ask me to...”

Alex swallows and draws with her finger over his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose, his lips.

“I enjoyed it when you told me what you would do, told me what to do. In the shower.”

The intensity of Tom’s eyes should be scary but are only exciting.

“And which of these little helpers did you try yesterday. What did you do?”

Now the intensity does become a bit too much and she looks away for a moment.

“I had taken a shower and washed myself with your soap. I smelled like you, everywhere, and I crawled into your sheets, felt so satisfied to be surrounded by you.”

“Were you?”

He rolls off her a bit, tucks the cover sheet they are laying on to the side, and with it the toys, to make room for the both of them resting on their sides, looking at each other, breathing each other in.

“Go on,” he encourages her softly, while he takes her hand and puts it again against his cheek, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand while holding it.

“I imagined you with me but somehow…behind me, invisible, it was easier to feel you but not be... distracted by you?”

Tom nods in understanding and keeps stroking her shoulders, arms, basically any place he can reach with his slow, lazy caresses.

“I was feeling your arms around me, not restricting but supporting; I became warm. I pushed off the blanket and I thought to try out the massage oil Ayo had recommended… Ayo is the owner of _Heaven’s Door_. She helped me a lot with my… research.”

“Does it smell good, the oil?”

Alex nods and turns around to the pile of items, taking a small bottle and handing it to Tom, who sniffs at the pleasing fragrance. They look at each other for a moment, contemplating again and Alex takes her shirt takes off. Tom watches her intently. Not asking, not expecting. Pleading with his eyes, maybe.

Alex reaches behind her and the bra is gone, too.

Tom places the flask for a moment on the night stand and gets rid of his sweater, opens the cap and pours some of the liquid in his hands. Rubs his palms, surprised at the pleasant warmth that immediately develops.

Alex unfastens the button of her trousers and lowers the zip, and he expects her to get comfortable on her stomach, but she surprises him for the at least 4th time today and lays on her back.

Stretched out before him like his own little… playground.

For a moment he can tell she is not sure what to do with her hands and he solves that issue by taking them into his, coating them with the oil, braiding their fingers and starting a slick sensual rub, distributing the liquid on both their hands.

After a while he lets go and glides up her arms with his shiny hands, and further up, to her shoulders as she reaches out to his chest in turn, and they both start teasing and caressing and stimulating the various textures they encounter on their way. A moment later he finds out the oil not only smells and feels good but surprisingly also tastes acceptable as he kisses down her neck while his fingers glide over her hard nipples, and her nails dig into his back, even though not hard; her hands are slippery and try to find purchase as he starts to suck in earnest.

Alex is lost in feeling, he can tell, but he wants more, wants it all, so he tucks on his mental leash and rasps against her sternum, “So, what else did you do, then?”

She opens her eyes and licks her dry lips.

“I touched myself, massaged myself and slicked up _Gigi_ … don’t laugh!”

He isn’t, not really, the vivid image in his mind is too enticing, his erection too painful.

“Which one is it?”

She picks it out of the pile and they look for a minute at the toy.

Alex presses her lips together, hands him Gigi, to free up her hands and shimmy out of her trousers, wiping her hands on them from the bit of leftover oil. Happy with the proceedings Tom ceremoniously hands the device back to her and takes off his jeans as well.

“Will you show me…?”

Tom leans again at the bed end, pillows stuffed behind his back, and Alex kneels before him with closed legs between his spread ones and he can see her erect nipples but also goose bumps on her arms, her form before him still. Too still. He understands her body’s language quite well by then.

“You are cold, come here.”

Alex takes refuge in his arms.

“I really want to.”

He engulfs her, shelters her, warms her skin but much more her heart.

“This isn’t an exam. I didn’t mean to cause pressure of any kind. There is nothing to prove.”

“I wish to, though. To show you what I… “She looks up at him with a mischievous smile, and continues, “You’ve been a good teacher. But…”

“It feels wrong…,” he acknowledges.

“Too much like a science experiment.”

“Like a performance.” He kisses the top of her head, feels her skin and her faith in him. Gigi is poking at his side where she dropped it when she put her arms around him. He nudges the toy so it plummets to the floor unacknowledged.

“Come here,” he repeats, and moves them so they can be both comfortable under the covers.

Alex feels immediately worse. And better.

“I swear, I really want to, I do.”

“Me too, but…this is not necessarily an event we should schedule, maybe.”

“No.” She kisses his sternum and cuddles against him enjoying the contact, feeling his hardness to her softness, not insistent more reassuring. A promise. “ This is a… _not yet_.”

He hums, contently, brushing her back with his fingers, mapping out her body’s contours with his fingertips, leaving secret messages on her skin.

“I was wondering…”, he starts again after a while. “What was it like, for you, that first time?”

“I was sad you weren’t there with me.”

He ponders this.

“Me too… but that is not why I’m asking… or rather, I would have asked the same question, had I witnessed it in person.”

Alex thinks about it for a while. How to verbalize the invisible. How to describe the sound of silence.

“It was pleasant. Surprising, when it happened; I was half asleep. Dreaming of you. I had been on the edge for days, what about I didn’t know, couldn’t know - and the frustration, it was driving me mad. As I said, I had figured the ‘ _on/off_ ” switch had not been installed in me at all, and these last few days, it was like there was a constant low voltage of a broken fixture running through my body and I couldn’t make it less, but also not _more_. I didn’t care either way, I just wanted it _gone_. So it was a relief, in a sense. When it happened. But also, somehow, a struggle. I missed you. After.”

Tom kisses her and turns them over, moving on top of her for better access. And to give in to the niggling voice telling him to protect her, now. Always.

“I wonder what was wrong, before.”

Tom can see how serious she means that question when she whispers it quietly.

“Nothing.” He is very firm. Unflinching.” Nothing was or is wrong.”

The ‘ _with you’_ is audible even though not vocalized.

“Still…”

“You just hadn’t met me yet.” He interrupts her and wiggles his eye brows comically.

But Alex considers him genuinely, as his hands frame her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks.

“Yes, you are right. Until we met…” She needs a moment. ”You took me _seriously_. You didn’t judge, disregard my feelings, my experiences - I never before shared them, partly out of fear, but to be honest mostly it was never _important_ to me. I had gotten so used to being out of place, of not being understood. I had built a wall, as not to soil what I kept protected behind glass, no one should see or even touch what they could not live up to…until I met you.” Her eyes are very shiny all in a sudden.” What if I hadn’t met you?”

Tom fights against the lump in his throat. She wouldn’t want him to console her right now, would take it as pity when it was compassion, and much more. Right now it’s easier to simply tease her.

“You didn’t take _me_ seriously _even a bit_ when we met.” Alex collects herself, swallows and starts a hesitant smile as he goes on. “Admit it, you thought I was a geek.”

“The first day or two, maybe. I thought you were _useful_. I let you close because I didn’t see it coming until it was too late to run… you are a sneaky _geek_ like that.”

Tom places his ear on her chest, listens to her heartbeat.

“What did you think of me, when we met as you walked into Babylon?” She cards through his hair gently, ”You once said you saw me buried in books and that drew you to me.”

“Not exactly what I meant… And you wouldn’t believe me.”

“You can say it. I know I come across as aloof. I have been told a million times. While men are called assertive and self confident, woman are bossy and arrogant. It drives me mad, these double standards.”

“I hope you aren’t accusing me of them because I agree, wholeheartedly. But as for your question, that’s not what I thought.”

“What did you think?”

Tom looks up at her, deep into her eyes.

“ _There she is.”_

Alex’s eyes widen, then disbelief creeps in, so he tries to explain.

“It wasn’t as pronounced like that, explicit like that, it wasn’t those words exactly maybe, but it was the feeling, the absolute _certainty_. Something in me recognized you.”

“From where?”

Tom shrugs, but adds, with absolutely certainty, “I just knew.”

They doze for a while.

His stomach rumbles.

“I never got to do the groceries.”

“Okay then, how about you order whatever you feel like, and feed the monster while you are at it, and I take a quick shower?”

A bit later there is a knock loud enough to be heard over the running water she just started.

“Dinner will be at least another 45 minutes, so take your time.”

After a moment Tom adds, “May I come in?”

She pokes her head around the frosted glass wall as he closes the door behind him and then leans against it; their eyes meet.

Something flutters in her stomach.

“Do you want to get rid of the oil as well?” she offers.

They both know it’s really not necessary, most of the liquid had been absorbed and like a lotion just left a pleasant smooth feeling on the skin.

“If you don’t mind?”

The stall is not big but it will fit the two of them nicely.

“I think that would be very environmental of us.”

She watches as he strips.

Tom joins her and puts his head under the direct spray to wet his face and hair. He grins as she refuses to hand him the bottle of his shower gel.

“I think I would like to do that, if you don’t mind.”

Alex notices the distinct smell as she lathers the foam between her hands and realizes she had somehow expected to smell her own fragrance, like in the day dream. And at the same time feels a tingling all over, like a Pavlovian response, her body remembering sensations from the previous night, associating Tom’s smell with the pleasure she discovered.

The water is hot on her skin, like tiny needles. Tom stands, seemingly patient as she takes him in, his stance relaxed and self-confident. Up close she can see water caught in his lashes, drops running down his face, throat, pecs, and abdomen; remembers how he described touching himself and how she yearned to be there with him. And now she is.

As Alex unconsciously licks her lips, contemplating the buffet of options before her, Tom is understanding of her need for a moment of appreciation. He is experiencing one of his own right now, however he has another urgent need and to show her what she had been missing the last time he was thinking of her while in a shower, he gives himself a few delicious strokes, shivers both in relief and anticipation - and at seeing her hand moving up to intuitively join his, he moans happily.

Alex is looking at him, with stretched out hands but changes her mind inspired by his example; brings her soapy fingers up to her breasts and massages them while holding eye contact. Tom watches her as she struggles to keep her eyes open as she plays with her foam-covered nipples, as she moves one hand slowly down to her belly button, lingers there for a second and finally dips - tentative at first, trying out the sensation, discovering it with a surprised whimper - dips her fingers between her slick folds.

Tom can’t stand it one second longer and reaches out to her.

“Let me touch you.”

Alex evades him, as much as is possible in these close quarters.

“You can later.” She corrects herself. “ _We_ can do later, but for now I want to watch you. Learn what you do. When you are alone. In the shower.“

Tom appreciates this with excited clarity and as he feels his heartbeat thunder in his head, his chest, his cock, he spreads his legs a bit wider and starts slowly to resume his efforts; his movement picks up speed has he sees her massaging her mons with the heel of her hand, observes her fingers disappearing again and again in the folds between her legs, where he wants to bury his face, taste her, brand her with his tongue. He sees her eyes widen at the sensation she causes herself, can see that watching him watching her, while he is stroking himself, that this is once again a pleasure loop and this time they both participate actively, and it will be over for him in a few seconds unless he puts a stop to it.

But why would he?

There is no need to stop, is there?

But she stops as if she heard his thoughts, and for a moment his old concern is back. It seems Alex has once more changed her mind, only this time her hands leave her body to join his. They glide over his chest, up to his shoulders, down his quivering arms. Interlacing their fingers, she brings his palms to her lips, pressing open mouthed kisses against them, letting him feel the texture of her tongue, while watching him breath heavily.

She steps closer and Tom leans with his shoulders against the tiles behind him, rests his head there with a small sound as his erection makes contact with her stomach, and groans as she sucks at his exposed throat, in the same tantalizing rhythm she uses to finally engulf his penis with tight smooth strokes; no hesitance, just heaven.

She observes him as she moves her hand, imitates what she witnessed just moments before.

“Like this?” She whispers. “Am I doing it right?”

Tom almost swallows his tongue at the feeling, he covers her hand with his and shows her. He can feel an ecstatic current rush through his body, from the soles of his feet to the follicles of his hair, can feel it build so fast he gets dizzy, whines at her confident movements, as she brushes his hands aside, leaving them useless, and for a sane second he wonders about her practiced flow, but there is no space in his brain for more than following her demands and his hands seek desperate purchase, finding it at her waist, her scalp.

Alex’s hand keeps pumping his hardness, while the other, previously taunting his nipples, moves to his backside, down his buttocks, tracing the hard muscle and exploring the wet cleft teasingly. His pelvis rocks forward into her hand reflexively, and she can’t stop herself from nipping at his clavicle in delight at the discovery. Even though some of the movements come to her almost automatically everything is new and satisfying and exciting beyond belief.

Tom’s deep sighs and his apparent struggle to only hold on to her and accept her lead, is a new level of pleasure on an admittedly short list of pleasurable experiences. It gives her a deeper understanding of why he would insist on doing this to her, why he would say and believe he would be satisfied with only giving her ecstasy… and why she wants to share it with him. Wants to hold back nothing and let him participate in everything, in her own triumph, but only once he’s found his own. _Now_.

Still stroking his penis and being so close now their noses almost touch, she spreads her stance a bit, not just for secure footing, but to allow him a bit of access, for him to dip, marginally, into her labia, brushing her clit with his length that her hand can only partly cover, moving his hips to the beat of her fingertips at his back.

Her fingers and palm provide the perfect tunnel, the perfect friction but also stop him from getting too far, a small buffer that prevents him entering her. He fucks himself on her fist, feels like a puppet, her being his master pulling the strings, directing him as she pleases.

She repeats the movement, parts his cheeks a tiny fraction with her index finger, rubs his tailbone, and going up onto her toes brings them to eye level. She wants to see it, wants to be drowning in his eyes when he comes. Tom struggles to keep his eyes open, understands her desire and yes, wants to share his and then, he comes, surrenders so beautifully, a moment later. She can feel the spurts of semen running down her stomach and on the inside of her legs, being washed away by the shower water.

Tom rests his head heavy on her shoulder, panting in her ear, slowly releasing the death grip he has on her waist and scalp. Alex steadies him for a moment against the wall, not sure his legs will carry him. She is immensely pleased with herself.

His hands pet her, still a bit uncoordinated but as she wants to leave the shower, grinning like the cat that found the canary sunbathing, his grip stopping her is surprisingly strong.

“Where do you think you are going?”

The kiss that follows has _her_ knees weak instantly, and the fingers that stroke her while he sucks her nipples into peaks, are merciless. She pulls in a thrilled breath, how can he touch her like this for the first time and already know her so well…

 _Experience_ , whispers a very unwelcome voice. _He knows the female body. Just like you know which buttons to press on his._

He notices, as he always does, softens his touch. Withdraws. Kisses the skin underneath her ears and whispers, “I think this shower needs to be remodeled as soon as possible.”

To say Alex is irritated by his change of subject, is an understatement.

“What are you talking about? It looks brand new.”

Tom continues as if he hadn’t heard her, lifting his head from where it had rested on her shoulder, switching off the water and kissing her gently, as he steps out.

“The fixtures should be easy to replace but I’m trying to figure out how to incorporate seating. And the cost of heated tiles.”

She tosses her wet flannel at his head and catches the big fluffy towel her throws her.

The doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it!” She hastily takes his discarded t-shirt and pulls it over her head, her body still partly wet.

“Don’t you _dare_.” Tom grabs her by the hem as she is almost out of the bathroom door.

“Tom…”

He crowds her against the door and as he kisses her, touches her breast possessively, the nipples very visible now through the thin, partly damp material.

“I will answer him.”

As he hurries downstairs at the repeated ringing, in nothing but his pair of jeans, not even buttoned, she yells, ”And what if it’s a _she_?”

He yells back, “There is no part of my body that the world hasn’t seen already. Yours, darling, is only for _me_.”

After dinner and a quick walk with Toby, they crawl back into bed; lay spooned on their sides. Alex basks in the feeling of his chest at her back, one of his thighs between her legs, the other softly rubbing on top. The pressuring from the strong warm muscle at her groin, she doesn’t think he is doing it on purpose, more likely the constant tiny rubbing movements are to ease the feelings in his already again half hard erection, insistently poking at her backside. But then, who can tell. The sensation it causes though, she relishes the feeling, coaxes it slowly, welcomes it with open arms.

 _Soon_.

Tom’s hands wander to her breasts, knead them gently and worry the pebbling buds. Now _this_ , is definitely not an accident. His stroking, she feels it everywhere, his smell, it fills her mind, his breath, it stokes the flames of her desire as he kisses her jaw, everything in her seems to tighten, more and more.

“You said it was pleasant but… also a struggle?”

She hums in agreement, her mind is somewhere else. Well, not totally somewhere else, just not very verbally inclined right now.

“What helped you with that struggle? What did you think of, I mean last night, in our bed? Was it the toy or rather… what is it, that I can do?“ He pauses. Considers. ”Is there anything I can do?”

Alex’s mind is abruptly focused and awake.

“It was very similar to how we are now. I was in your arms and you whispered to me. Encouraging. Daring me. Praising me.” She swallows. “Telling me what to do. Pushing me. Gently. But insisting.”

One of his hands still teases her nipple but the other moves down her stomach and pushes, gently, but insistently, prods at her heated center, pleads wordlessly for entry. His lips torture her when he whispers hotly.

“You’ve been the fulfillment of all my dreams, of all the desires I didn’t even know I had. Let me be yours. Let me in.” Tom’s warm, strong hand is right where she wants it to be, waiting for her to open up, to abandon her fortress of solitude and let him join her. Almost involuntarily she sighs, recalls the situation.

“I was safe even though I had no idea what I was doing, where I was going.”

She spreads her legs in increments, feels his fingers tenderly glide through her slickness, sending the newly discovered but already familiar signals of pleasure to her brain. She exhales as she again lets herself sink against him. And him into her.

“You used the toy, yes?”

His voice is just a dark whisper now, his relentless massage, the pressure that will not let up and his strong body that surrounds her, holds her together at the seams while she is about to burst, he is the source of it all and will not leave her until she is at the end of the climb.

“Yes, I did. I held it against me…”

“Will you show me?”

Alex comes to herself, at least in part, as Tom turns them a bit so he can sit against the bed-head, can bracket her between his legs, hold her in his arms, her back against his chest, just like she had imagined last night.

They are both naked, warm; she is safe and the cool air caresses her skin as he moves the blankets aside to arrange her as he pleases, in his embrace, secure but open, with nowhere to hide and nowhere to go but to lean back into his arms and plunge forward into a pool of ecstasy.

“Tell me, what did you do? Show me,” he repeats in a heated hiss to her ear, pinching her nipples, gently stretching her legs, resting them on top of his, spreading her wide open without hesitance.

She struggles to keep her eyes from closing, is shivering in anticipation, hears a click, then feels his once again slick, warm hands coat her arms, fingers, thighs and finally her folds with smooth movements, bringing silky pleasure on every path they choose.

Alex doesn’t know where the toy in her hand has come from, but the humming vibration is familiar and she knows what she wants to do with it.

Tom’s hands are teasing but not where she wants them to be, her nipples ache from his ministrations but it’s not quite enough, his breath at her neck, his voice in her ears, it tells her, demands her _to show him, to let him see_ _her beautiful sweet cunt_ , her pleasure, he insists she _share it with him_ … each one of these word sends new shivers through her, all having their focal point in one spot and she places the toy first exploratory but soon adventurously against herself. It won’t take much; she is already floating, held to the sheets only by his arms and sweet praise.

“ _Yes, dove! Please, darling, trust me, show me…do it, I know you want to…come for me!”_

And how could she refuse such a polite request?

She flies.


	21. Epilogue

__

_Is your cucumber bitter? Throw it away. Are there briars in your path? Turn aside.  
_ _That is enough._ _Do not go on and say,_ _"Why were things of this sort ever brought into this world?" neither intolerable nor everlasting -  
_ _if thou bearest in mind that it has its limits, and if thou addest nothing to it in imagination._

_\- Marcus Aurelius_

“Can we play a game. Just a tiny mind game...indulge me?”

Once more she is in a haze of sweet cotton candy flavour and spicy shower gel fragrance.

“I get to touch you and feast on you and you...you are not allowed to _like_ any of it.”

She gasps at the sharp sweet pain of him nipping at her breast.

“I dare you to hate every touch, to despise every tingle…”

“That sounds absurd.”

“… indulge me?”

“I don't even know if I understand what you mean.”

“Well, let’s say I stroke you, like that... what do you feel, what goes through your mind?”

She is bow-taut.

He coaxes further.

“A game - I get to touch you and all you have to do is to _not_ enjoy it.”

He gently takes her shorts down.

“If I give up, you win. Simple.”

“Again. That sounds absurd.”

He pins her arms up next to her head on the pillow.

“Let me be clearer then. You are _not_ allowed to orgasm.”

“Why in the world…”

He dares her and the smile she sees, it is a new one to add to the collection, one that sends an intense shiver through her.

“All you do is lay here and not feel anything. Can you do that?”

She starts to understand.

“... you want to provoke the opposite reaction I associate with the situation?”

“Can't hurt, can it? I get to have my way with you, and there is absolutely nothing expected from you. Actually, wrong. I expect you to be absolutely still. You can go to sleep if you like. Just let me have my way with you?”

“What exactly would you be doing?”

He smiles that new dangerous smile.

There is a tingle, and not just in her stomach.

“Simply my mouth and fingers. Well, lips and tongue, and hands, I assume...my skin, I suppose. My voice?”

Still holding on to her wrists, he can feel her pulse flutter under his fingertips.

“Listen, there is not much that I can be _up_ to.“ He jokingly lifts his eyebrows. ”I’m sated and lazy and all I want is to care for you for a while. As I said, if you are tired, go to sleep, I’ll be very soft, you won't notice...much.”

This is just silly.

“We can also say it’s a thesis and I want scientific proof. Indulge me?”

She nods and a moment later, knows she’s already lost the game.

And later still, she wins. For a moment.

In the end it’s tie.

__

_A room without books is like a body without a soul.”_

_— Marcus Tullius Cicero_

“I would like you to meet Arthur. There’s not much pressure for you, since he won’t remember he ever met you…but it’s very important to me.”

“Of course. I would be honored to meet your father.”

They find him at the bench he prefers for his lectures in the afternoon.

“Arthur, this is my friend Tom. Tom, my dad, Dr. Arthur Wright.”

Tom stretches out his hand in respectful greeting.

“Its an absolute privilege to meet you, Sir.”

Arthur ignores the gesture and looks up to Tom for a long time, more than looks, searches.

_“‘He that hath a will to die by himself fears it not from another.’”_

Tom swallows dry.

Alex is not surprised, her father loves using bits and pieces of poetry he has still somewhere locked away in the drawers of his mind.

“That is curious, I never heard that quote before. Let me write it down, I want research it later.”

Tom stops her from searching her bag for a pen.

“You don’t need to. It’s Shakespeare.”

“I’m very impressed you know that.”

Arthur turns around and seizes hold of Tom’s arm.

_“‘Now put your shields before your hearts and fight. With hearts more proof than shields. Advance, my fellows!’”_

The older man nods seriously at the younger one for a last time and walks away, without looking back.

Alex is quiet, tries to explain, “He loved theater even when he was not able to teach any more, because he didn’t remember… he still went to see plays, knew every word, Gabriel always took him. It actually calmed him.”

Tom wants to know, “When was that, I mean until when…?

“He needed to be hospitalized in 2015. Why?”

“I was in a play in 2014. He just quoted from it. Coriolanus.” Tom breaks into an incredulous smile, “I think he just gave us his blessing.”

* * *

> **Authors note:** If you enjoyed this part of the collection, why not head over, and [subscribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BettyAnnButterworth/pseuds/BettyAnnButterworth) to (or bookmark) the next part in the series? [_Awake_ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23908219/chapters/57484594)is currently WIP, but as a subscriber you will be notified the minute the story continues, and I would love to welcome you back when _Bibliopolium_ _Babylon_ opens it’s doors again!
> 
> _PS: Random piece of information - did you know that AO3 bookmarks can be public as well is private, and that subscriptions are **always** anonymous? So if you are shy, don’t worry, no one, including the author, will ever know your name…but it would make my heart sing to see by the number that actual people out there are enjoying what I post._
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> _PSS: And of course you can always leave kudos and comments here, drop me an e-mail or find me on[tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bettyannbutterworth). I can't wait to hear from you!_


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